The Best Kept Secrets
by endlesspath
Summary: When Cameron’s identity is compromised, Sarah has to make a decision before her family is exposed and Skynet closes in. CHAPTER 10 UP!
1. Chapter 1: Paint

Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I play in the playground, tis all, I swear.

Summary: When Cameron's identity is compromised, Sarah has to make a decision before her family is exposed and Skynet closes in.

A/N: This idea has been swimming around in my head for a while, so now I've just decided to give it a go. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

John's eyes followed the second's hand of the English classroom's wall-mounted clock as it ticked around and around. He cupped his chin in his hands and yawned loudly. He hated English. Around the classroom John knew that similar expressions of boredom were on the faces of his classmates. The end of school just couldn't come soon enough!

The scratch of pencil on paper occasionally reached his ears and like all the other times John had heard the sound, he turned his head and looked at his robotic guardian, his protector; or as everyone else in the classroom believed, his metal-head sister. Cameron was looking down at her exercise book and was recording every dull word that emerged from the English teacher's ceaseless mouth.

"Hey." John whispered to her, reaching over to tap her elbow. "You know you don't have to do that."

The pencil paused in its flurry of movement as Cameron looked up and stared at John with her usual expressionless gaze and said, "But you asked me before class to take notes for you."

"I was . . . joking." John said weakly. Cameron just stared at him, confused, curious, questioning — if a robot _could_ look like that. "You don't have to write notes for me. It's not as if I actually need them."

"Oh. Thank you for explaining." Cameron replied softly, but by her expression John could tell she didn't fully understand.

"John and Cameron Baum!"

John jerked as the sudden shout echoed through the classroom. He turned away from Cameron and looked at the English teacher. Amused chuckles emerged through the other students. English class for them had just passed into remotely interesting.

"Is there something you would like to share with the class?" The teacher's voice was moderated now.

John shook his head and tried to sink into his chair. He hated being singled out in class almost as much as he hated class itself. He looked back at Cameron and almost groaned. His _sister_ was peering at the teacher calmly and her mouth was opening to answer.

"I don't have to take notes for John."

_Oh, crap!_

The chuckles tittering from the other students erupted into full-blown laughter, along with amused words of: "What a freak," and "Weirdo."

"Congratulations, Miss Baum." The teacher rolled his eyes. "Now if we could please get back on topic?"

John directed another glance at Cameron and shook his head softly at the questioning expression on her face. If she wanted to ask questions she could wait till after class.

Suddenly the door to the classroom burst open and a dark-haired student walked in, a schoolbag slung over his shoulder. John had seen him before; he was in a few of his classes – including English.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Walker, have you finally decided to join us?" the teacher said, both looking and sounding increasingly irritated at the continuous disruptions to his class.

The student cracked a grin and pulled a note form his pocket. "Sorry, sir; it took a bit longer than usual."

"Mm," the teacher hummed as he glanced over the note. "Take your seat, and next time you decide to take an hour to do a ten minute job, you'll have a detention waiting for you."

Walker glanced at the clock and then sighed as he slipped through the isle of desks and made his way towards the back. He smelt of paint, John noticed as the other student passed by his desk, and his hands were covered with the stuff.

All thoughts of the paint rapidly disappeared from John's head as the school bell rang, loud and clear. He sprang to his feet, pulling his bag up onto the desk, and stuffed his unopened English folder inside. He zipped up his bag and waited for Cameron to do the same.

Haste was a word lost on Cameron. Well, at least in these situations it was.

His foot tapped impatiently as Cameron slowly and methodically placed her books in her bag and positioned it squarely against her hip. The classroom had all but emptied, only the teacher and a few straggling student's remained. "Are you ready?" he asked Cameron impatiently.

"Yes." Cameron responded simply, unfathomed by – or just completely unaware of the sarcasm in John's voice.

John moved away from his desk and walked towards the door leading out of the classroom. With a swift yank, he pulled the door open and emerged into the hallway. Locker after locker lined the far wall, but hardly any students were rummaging through them. _What the . . .?_ He thought, confused. The hallways were always crowded after school. Always.

A roar of laughter erupted to his left, and John glanced around, frowning. A throng of students were crowding around the hall near the end of the line of lockers. _What the hell?_

"John. The exit is this way." Cameron said as he began to walk towards the crowd.

"Yeah, I know. Just wait a second." He paused in his stride as Cheri Westin walked swiftly down the hall, away from the crowd of students. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked her.

Cheri met his eyes briefly, but didn't slow in her pace as she walked away, books pressed against her chest, head slightly down. She looked frightened, angry too. He looked over his shoulder, watching Cheri disappear through the school's exit. _What the hell is going on here?_

The students parted easily, too easily, as he approached them. And every face John saw seemed to be wearing sly, disdainful sneers and grins. Suddenly he found himself at the front of the crowd, staring directly at the source of the other's amusement. Cameron was at his side, she was _always_ at his side.

"Metal-head!"

A second wave of laughter erupted from the students. John spun around, grabbing Cameron's arm and pulling her along as he went. "Come on, let's go home." He told her quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Walker, one of the first people to escape through the door once the bell rang, push his way out of the crowd. The paint on his hands suddenly leapt out in John's mind. _Did he do this?_

John didn't turn around and pursue Walker though; he just kept walking, away from the students, away from the lockers. Away from the painted image of a girl's head; a blank gaze, wires producing from her neck; a metal plate covering her skull and half of her face. Who the girl was meant to be was unmistakable.

They walked away from the crude graffiti of Cameron, painted over her locker as if taunting them with the truth.


	2. Chapter 2: Just Between Us

John steadily ignored the scornful and sneering glances directed his way and focused on walking through the locker-filled hallway. Cameron walked straight-backed beside him, apparently unaffected by the sniggers. It wasn't the stares or laughter that quickened John's steps though; it was the occasional comment, insult; most of the time not even covered by a hand or cough.

Tin-Can.

Metal Head.

Insults directed at Cameron.

Whoever painted that graffiti had no idea how close they actually were to the truth. Or maybe they did, and that thought scared John more than anything else.

He blasted through the metal-detectors at the school's exit, cringing at the sniggers that emerged from several students when Cameron flashed the security guard her pass.

It wasn't fair! Why did this have to happen? Why could people be such . . . such jackasses?!

John was so consumed with his worries that he didn't even notice when Cameron touched him lightly, skin against skin, and said:

"Your pulse is abnormal, and your body temperature is high." It was a statement, delivered with such emotionless calm that for a moment, John wasn't surprise that Cameron had been painted as a robot. "You have been like this ever since the end of last period."

Another statement.

"This might not be just _graffiti_, Cam." John replied, breaking the silence which had held him since he had seen the wall. "It could be someone who found out about you – what you are. It could be nothing at all, just some stupid joke!"

He glanced at Cameron, almost wishing she would say something to reassure him, something comforting. _It's just a joke, John. Don't worry about it. It will blow over soon._ He wished that she would just smile, do something human. It would make all the difference. But no matter how strange Cameron had been acting lately, she was not capable of fixing this.

They slowed and stood in place as they reached the road, waiting for a gap in the ever-present traffic so they could cross. Sarah was picking them up today, John wasn't sure why.

"Listen, you can't tell Mom about the graffiti." John said, reaching out to grab Cameron's hand.

"Why?" Cameron replied blandly. She glanced down slowly at his hand as if wondering why he was holding hers. "Communication is important in a family."

"Do you know what she'll do? The '_course-of-action'_ she'll take? She'll move us before we can blink; new house, new school, new name . . . new life. I don't want to start over again, Cameron, please!"

The traffic died; a momentary lull in the stream of cars. John released Cameron's hand and stepped out onto the road, hearing his protector's footsteps beside his.

"Okay, John." Cameron said suddenly. "I won't tell. It will be our secret."

John looked at her and nearly stopped right in the centre of the road when his eyes fell on the small, almost knowing smile decorating Cameron's face. ". . . Good." John said as he resumed his full pace. "We'll deal with this on our own. We have to."

"We have to." Cameron echoed, causing John to glance at her in surprise again.

A small smile formed on John's face as he and Cameron angled off, walking towards the car parked a small distance away from the school. At least Sarah had listened to him when he told her not to park just in front of the school. He had told her it was kind of weird to be picked up by a parent. But compared to everything else that had happened, John really didn't care.

"Hey, how was school?" Sarah asked him as he climbed into the front seat. She didn't ask Cameron, she never asked Cameron, and John was thankful for that as well.

"Fine." John shrugged. He was sure to keep his answers brief. Too much information was a sure sign of a liar. "What's going on? You don't usually pick us up."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah give him an odd look as she started the car. "Derek found an obit in the paper this morning. We're going to check it out after I drop you and Tin Miss home."

"Who died?"

The car moved forward, merging into the stream of traffic as Sarah replied. "Derek said he knew the man. He said that twenty years from now, he's a resistance fighter."

* * *

"We're here." Sarah announced as she pulled up on the car's hand break and killed power to the engine. She looked to her right, examining the house across the street. "You haven't said a word since we left, Derek."

The man sitting in the passenger's seat sighed and scratched his chin. "You do know what this mean, right? If this _is_ him?"

"Yeah, I get the picture." Sarah replied.

"John told me that this would happen eventually." Derek reached behind him and pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. The magazine ejected with a soft click.

"My John?"

"No." Another click, this time much louder as Derek shoved it back inside the gun.

Sarah barely spared him a glance as she pushed open the car door and climbed outside. "Okay, so what did _your_ John tell you about this?"

"He told everyone who came back, I think, to be on the lookout for future resistance members being killed before their time. He told me that he was expecting this to happen in the final _weeks_ before Judgement Day."

"But it's happening now. Perfect." Sarah retorted sardonically. She pulled out her own handgun and checked the magazine, mirroring Derek's movements with swift and sure fingers. She heard the car door close softly as Derek climbed out his side of the car. "Did you know this fighter? McClane?"

"I met him a couple of times, but I never really knew him." Derek replied. "But he knew John. He was one of the first people to join the resistance. Rumour had it that McClane met John before the bombs fell. It might have been true."

Sarah nodded and glanced across the road at the house. Yellow police tape was extended across the front door of the two story house. The obituary hadn't divulged any details about McClane's death, only that the police were still investigating. It didn't even have a photograph with McClane's picture on it. "Let's go. See if we can find something here."

She crossed the road quickly, barely making a sound as she walked. Above, a streetlamp flickered weakly, barely strong enough to hold back the night. Sarah wished the lamp would fail. She didn't want anyone looking out their windows and seeing her and Derek breaking into a sealed crime scene.

"What are you thinking, Derek?" she asked as she bent down to examine the locked front door.

"I'm thinking that this isn't only about killing resistance members before Judgment Day."

"You're right." Sarah pulled her lock-picks out from her back pocket and inserted the thin steel rods into the lock. "But we don't even know if this McClane is the one from the future."

"I know. And I hope to hell this is all for nothing."

The lock clicked open. Sarah pulled her picks out and used her sleeve to push open the door. It was pitch black inside. Sarah straightened and pulled her flashlight from where it was hanging at her waist. The light pierced the blackness inside the house, revealing a wide hallway with a set of stairs near the end. It all looked . . . normal.

"Let's get this over with." Sarah heard Derek say as a second beam of light entered the house from Derek's flashlight.

"Close the door behind you." Sarah said as she walked into the house, moving her flashlight's beam across the hallway's wallpaper. A soft thud sounded behind her as Derek closed the door. Silence fell inside the house as she moved through the hallway, moving closer and closer towards the stairs.

She paused outside one of the doorways leading out of the hall. A tidy, untouched lounge room emerged under the soft beam of her flashlight. She noted a second door leading to what looked like a kitchen. Searching for ways out; it was something she had done so often it happened instinctively now.

She turned her attention back to the lounge. A small table lay in the centre of the room, shiny, spotless. Sarah moved her flashlight around the room, passing over a couch, the television sitting in the corner and a bookshelf right beside it. Her torchlight reflected back at her and she frowned. "Derek, in here." She said softly, walking into the lounge, straight towards the bookshelf.

"What is it?" Derek's whisper followed her into the room.

Sarah reached out and lifted a framed photograph from one of the higher shelves. The picture inside showed a man, a woman, and a young girl, all three with large smiles on their faces. They looked happy; father, mother and daughter together. _Not happy anymore, though. They lost their world far too soon. _"The picture; is this McClane?" Sarah pointed at the man as Derek appeared beside her.

Derek took the photograph and stared at the man for a few seconds. "Yeah…." he said quietly. "He looks a bit different, but it's him. Damn it!" The photograph fell from Derek's hands and hit the carpeted ground with a soft thud.

Sarah knelt and picked up the picture. A spider web of cracks decorated the glass, but it hadn't shattered, not really. "Be careful! We don't want anyone know someone's been here."

"It doesn't matter. McClane's dead! This was never meant to happen!"

Sarah replaced the photograph on the bookshelf and moved quickly back through the lounge. "I'm looking upstairs. Stay here if you want."

"Why?" Derek called after her. "We already found out what we needed to know."

_Because I'm not satisfied__,_ Sarah thought as she walked back into the hallway and headed towards the stairs. She could hear Derek grumbling something under his breath, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. _Probably a good thing too._

She shone her flashlight up the staircase and her eyebrows rose in surprise. _Is that . . .?_ She ascended the first few steps in quick succession and shone her flashlight higher. The staircase above looked like it had been torn apart. What was left of the banister was in pieces and scattered across the landing. Half the wall had been torn away with it, as though someone had been thrown right through.

She turned back, walking back down the stairs and back into the lounge. "The stairs are torn apart." She announced as entered the lounge. Derek was standing by the bookcase still, just staring at the photograph. "I think a Terminator was here. It killed McClane and destroyed half the staircase when it did it."

"Well at least we know how he died." Derek said, turning back to look at Sarah. "But now we've got a whole new problem to deal with."

"I know." Sarah replied. "Come on let's get out of—"

_Tap__._

Sarah spun around, her flicking off her flashlight and pulling her gun out of the waistband of her jeans as she did so. She was aware of Derek doing the same. Darkness engulfed the lounge once more as the light from their torches flickered out of existence.

Sarah cautiously moved forward and positioned herself against the second door leading out of the lounge and into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder at Derek, barely able to make him out in the darkness. He nodded once, acknowledging her gaze.

_Tap. Tap_. The sound was coming from the kitchen. It sounded like footsteps; still soft, barely audible.

Sarah leaned forward slightly and peered around the corner. Soft light from the streetlamp outside was shining through a window and was reflecting off the smooth benches and floorboards. Her eyes swept through the kitchen, scanning for the slightest flicker of movement.

The footsteps became louder, no longer just light taps as a man strode into the kitchen, heavy boots thudding against the floor. The man paused for a moment as he too gazed around. For a moment, Sarah could have sworn – would have sworn – that the man's eyes had shone with artificial red light.

Sarah pulled back, disappearing back around the doorframe. She looked back at Derek and whispered in the lightest whisper she could manage:

"We have a problem."


	3. Chapter 3: Bait

"We have a problem." Sarah whispered so lightly she wouldn't have been surprised if Derek couldn't hear her, let alone the man still standing as if frozen in the kitchen.

"What?" Derek's reply was just as quiet as her voice had been, if not lighter. She wasn't surprised; Derek had been living in an environment where the slightest sound would have gotten you killed. He was used to speaking in bare whispers.

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but immediately closed it when a soft clicking sound emanated from the kitchen. It was a sound Sarah knew better than most, the sound of a gun being cocked. In the space of a second, Sarah leapt forward, the need for quiet instantly vanishing the moment the click reached her ears.

Several gunshots echoed through the house as Sarah hit the ground, colliding with the table in the centre of the lounge. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from crying out in pain, but even then a slight, reflexive groan crept out from her lips. The familiar and often comforting weight of her gun was gone from her hand.

The gunfire stopped and another click sounded, this time being accompanied by footsteps, growing louder and louder with each pace. Sarah lifted herself awkwardly and cast her hand out to search for her fallen handgun. Pain blossomed in her right side as she moved, quickly spreading through the sudden numbness.

Suddenly Derek appeared at her side, she didn't know what he had done to escape the bullets, but she was glad he did. "Are you okay?" he said urgently. "Can you move?"

"I lost my gun!" she replied through clenched teeth. "We need to get out of here! He's coming!"

The man's footsteps stopped and Sarah turned to look over her shoulder. He was just standing in the doorway, turning his head as he scanned the lounge. She couldn't make out his features, but even if she could she didn't think she would have really noticed. The only thing her eyes were focused on was the harsh red light emanating from where the man's eyes should have been.

As quickly as he had come, Derek stood up and the sound of gunfire from Derek's Glock filled her ears. She turned away reached to her waist to grab her flashlight. Its high-powered beam suddenly filled the room and Sarah cast it around, searching for her gun.

Behind her the sound of Derek's gunfire stopped just as her flashlight caught the edge of her gun, lying half-concealed under one of the couches. She scrambled forward and stretched out her hand. Her fingers tightened around her gun's handle and she pulled it out from under the chair, swinging around to point both flashlight and gun towards the man's head.

The man froze as soon as the beam of light hit his eyes and his gun lowered from where it was pointing towards Derek. Strips of skin and flesh were torn away from the man's face where Derek's bullets had struck, revealing the shiny metal endoskeleton beneath.

The terminator turned its head and tilted it slightly as it stared directly at the flashlight. It stayed in that position, examining the light's source, before turning back and striding towards Derek. It's hand shot out and gripped Derek's neck tightly. Derek clutched the machine's hands and gasped for breath.

Sarah quickly rose to her feet and fired a round at the machine's head, anything to get the machine to loosen its grasp on Derek – anything to stop it from killing him.

The bullet didn't even phase the machine.

"John Connor?" The terminator's voice was smooth, almost fluid, different from the others Sarah had previous heard. "No."

Sarah felt a surge of panic emerge in the pit of her stomach as soon as her son's name left the terminator's mouth. In the space of a second, she ran across the room and threw herself at the terminator's legs. She cried out in pain as the swift action and following collision magnified the pain in her rapidly bruising side.

The terminator fell, its balance temporarily fleeing as Sarah crashed into it. The sound of wood splintering and cracking sounded as all of the machine's weight fell on the coffee table, crushing it completely.

Sarah clutched her side awkwardly and hobbled over to where Derek had fallen. His gasps and chokes made alleviated the pit of worry stirring in Sarah's stomach, but not by much. Derek was alive still; the terminator hadn't crushed the life out of him.

"You okay?" Adrenaline was flowing through Sarah's body. Her breathing was erratic as she knelt beside Derek.

Derek nodded as he struggled to his feet with Sarah's help, but he didn't say anything. He was still struggling to draw breath.

"Come on, let's get out of here!" Sarah said as she started off towards the long hallway. She spared a glance behind her as she ran through the doorway. The terminator was rising slowly from the remains of coffee table and was staring at them as they ran.

Sarah turned away from the Terminator and sprinted down the hallway. Derek's footsteps sounded behind her. She only ran faster, barely slowing down enough to pull open the front door.

Outside some of the surrounding houses had their lights on and some people were peeking out through their curtains. Sarah barely spared them a glance as she leapt down the concrete steps of the front porch and dashed across the grass, running furiously towards her car.

"There's a shotgun under the backseat." Sarah said to Derek as she pulled the car door open and clambered swiftly inside.

"I know." Derek replied as he ripped his car door open and all but dove into the back.

Sarah started the car and looked back towards the house as the terminator burst through the front door and began sprinting towards the car, faster than any human could.

Suddenly a shot echoed through the car as Derek pulled the shotgun out from under the seat and fired at the terminator. It stumbled briefly, slowing in its headlong dash.

Another shot sounded, then another.

Sarah pressed her foot down on the accelerator and floored it. With a loud screech the car took off, leaving long black lines on the road. She glanced in the rearview mirror and looked at the terminator, still running after them, again at full speed.

"You okay?" Derek asked in between long breaths.

"Yeah," Sarah replied as she glanced in the mirror again. The terminator was slowing; it knew it couldn't catch them now. She took the corner almost at full speed. The machine disappeared from view.

"It knows what we look like." Derek said. "It'll be hunting us."

"We have bigger things to worry about." Sarah replied as she urged the car faster, vanishing into the maze of streets, making sure the machine couldn't follow them home. But still the anxiety in the pit of her stomach refused to go away.

* * *

Cameron took a final step and paused for a moment, twisting her head to look around the kitchen. This was her twenty-second circuit of the house so far. She had checked that all of the guns were still in their hidden places three times, even the duffle bag under Sarah's bed. She was only being thorough, but John had told her she was being obsessive.

John had gone to bed after she had completed her fifteenth circuit of the house, stating that there was nothing good on television and that he was tired of watching her walk around the house. For some reason he had seemed both offended and amused when she informed him that it was past his usual bedtime.

Cameron jerked quickly and twisted back around as the sound of an approaching car triggered her sensors. She walked towards one of the windows and lifted the curtain, peering through into the night.

A set of headlights were growing closer and closer towards the house. Cameron stayed completely still as her vision adjusted to the harsh light. The car came to an abrupt halt outside the house and the headlights died as the car's engine shut off. Cameron tilted her head as Sarah and Derek climbed out of the car. Sarah was hunched over slightly with one hand pressed against her right hip. Derek appeared uninjured.

She let the curtain fall back into place, then turned around and waited. Moments later the sound of the front door opening and then closing softly. It was apparent to Cameron that Derek and Sarah didn't want to make too much noise. Night-times always seemed to be a time for quiet here.

Cameron remained at her position by the window as Derek and Sarah walked into the kitchen. Derek ignored her completely, walking towards the fridge and peering inside. He barely even spared her a glance. Sarah looked at her briefly before settling against the kitchen bench. Cameron stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to speak. It became apparent that she would have to initiate proceedings.

"How did it go?" She asked, then waited for one of them to respond.

"Badly," Sarah replied after a moment. "McClane was the one from the future. A terminator killed him."

"A terminator?"

"It was waiting for us to come. It attacked us." Sarah was massaging her hip as if it pained her, but no visible signs of pain appeared on her face.

"It wasn't waiting for us." Cameron turned her head and looked at Derek as he emerged from the fridge, holding a slice of leftover pizza from dinner. "It was waiting for John. The thing said his name. It couldn't care less about us."

"It makes sense." Cameron said, looking between Sarah and Derek as she spoke. "Skynet doesn't know that we jumped forward eight years. It thinks John is twenty-four years old, not sixteen. They don't know where to find him."

"So, what are you trying to say?" Sarah asked briskly. "That Skynet killed McClane to lure John out into the open?"

"Yes."

"Why McClane, though?"

"Ryan McClane knew John before Judgment Day." Cameron said. She saw Derek nod briefly and continued. "Several future resistance members knew John before Judgment Day. After failing to attract John and acquire you at McClane's residence; the terminator will move onto the next target."

"Is that what you'd do?"

"Yes. That's what I'd do."

"Great." Derek said sarcastically. "So now we just sit tight and wait for that tin-can to kill someone else."

Cameron looked at him but decided not to say anything. Derek was being emotional. Emotional people refused to see sense most of the time.

"We'll have to lay low for a while. The police will be all over that house by now. We'll be lucky if the FBI doesn't get involved." Sarah sighed and stood straighter from her casual position against the bench. "I'm going to go to bed while its still night out."

"Hey, wait a sec." Derek swallowed the last of his pizza and stepped towards her. "Let's take care of your side. You fell pretty hard."

"It can wait until morning." Sarah answered quickly, causing Cameron to cock her head and look once more towards where Sarah's hand was still pressed against her side.

Derek shrugged and moved towards the kitchen sink to wash his hands. "I'm just saying. I know how painful that can be."

"I'm fine."

Cameron looked between the two again listening to them speak. John had once told her that when Sarah sounded like that, it meant you shouldn't disobey her. Judging by Derek's silence, Cameron thought he knew it too.

"Cameron." Sarah said as she walked towards the doorway leading out of the kitchen. "Wake us up if something decided to follow us home."

Cameron nodded and watched as Sarah left the kitchen, switching off the light, leaving both her and Derek alone in the dark. Derek left soon after, muttering something under his breath. He didn't say anything to her, maybe he was still emotional?

She remained completely still for a moment as her vision shifted back into night-mode, before beginning her twenty-third circuit of the house. But this time she took a gun from one of the numerous hiding places around the house and held it loosely in her hand.


	4. Chapter 4: Artificial Eyes

"So . . . ." John said, turning to look at Cameron as she walked in her usual stiff way beside him. "Are you going to tell me about what happened last night?" He didn't know why he was hoping for an answer, Cameron had surprisingly tight-lipped about what had happened to his mother and Derek last night. He wasn't entirely sure why. She didn't tell him some things, but when he found out about a particular detail, she would usually explain herself.

"I thought that Sarah already explained the situation to you." Cameron replied. She didn't look at him.

"She said that she and Derek were interrupted when they searched the house and that she'd tell me the rest when we got home this afternoon." John resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. If he wasn't truly concerned about what had happened, he thought he might have.

"Yes. They were interrupted."

"Mom can barely walk without wincing and Derek has a bruise the size of Texas on his neck!"

"It is not the size of Texas. Texas is approximately 696,200 square kilometres. It is _not_ the size of Texas."

John shook his head in frustration and stopped walking. "That's not the point! I just want to know what went wrong, why are you being so stubborn about this!?"

Cameron did look at him this time, pausing in her steady stride to look over her shoulder at him. "I am not being stubborn. I'm trusting Sarah's judgment. You shouldn't be impatient; you need to focus on something else. Let it go."

John stared at Cameron, his eyebrows rising slightly, before continuing to walk, adjusting his bag across his shoulders as Cameron fell into place beside him. Sometimes it was startling to see how Cameron used different aspects of tone and slang. Usually she was correct with her usage, but sometimes what she said seemed so out of place John couldn't help but laugh or stare. It was a toss up between the two.

"You're right." He admitted to her. It was easier to admit his faults to Cameron; she never had that look in her eyes that adults sometimes got. There were both positives and negatives to her true nature, but sometimes it took more effort to remember the good ones. "We need to find out who painted that . . . that thing on your locker."

"It was of me." Cameron said. "Despite the obvious physical errors, the fact that it was painted on my locker seems to signify that it was meant to be me."

"This could _not_ have come at a worst time. Normal is already an inch away from flying out the window. As much as I don't wanna go to school, it's the last thing normal I have left."

"Unless you stop Judgment Day," Cameron stated.

John glanced at her and smiled humourlessly. Cameron's eyes seemed to stare right through him, picking apart his mixed emotions without truly understanding them. "Even if we do, I don't think anything will ever be _normal_. I'll still check the exit's whenever I enter a building; I'll still sleep with a gun hidden away within arm's reach. I'll still see Skynet, no matter how far I run, or no matter how well I hide." John scoffed derisively. "I'll be just like my mother."

Cameron remained silent, and John was suddenly all too aware about the fact that it was a robot walking beside him. Some days it seemed so easy to forget. He sighed and returned his attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He could see his school not far down the road, and already he could hear the other student's laughs and merged voices.

"It's a good thing." Cameron said abruptly, so certain in her claim that John couldn't help but smile. "If you are always alert, you cannot be taken by surprise, reducing the probability of termination."

John laughed bitterly, "Can't have that, can we?"

"No, we can't." Cameron's brow crinkled slightly and her eyes seemed to bore into him even further than before.

Few students turned to look at them as they made their way through the throng towards the metal detectors and security guards. John smiled slightly and exhaled through his teeth; he had half been expecting a walk of shame, filled with flickers of laughter and whispers like what had happened to Jordan Cowan before she jumped off the roof. People still looked and people still laughed, but compared to yesterday, this was nothing.

The familiar comments of Tin-can and Metal head reached John's ears as Cameron showed her pass to the security guard. He had come up with the excuse for Cameron on-the-spot, only a few people had even heard him tell the security guard that Cameron had a metal plate in her head, but it had spread through the school surprisingly quickly. He grimaced to himself. Was that excuse the reason behind the graffito? Could it really be that simple? John nearly groaned when he realised what he was doing. Suspicion really did grow into paranoia; he'd seen it enough to know it for a fact.

"John." Cameron said lightly, immediately snapping his attention away from his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, shielding his eyes from the sun and squinting as he followed Cameron's raised finger. Someone was standing near the middle of the main building's side wall, slowly guiding a paint roller along the wall with gentle and careful strokes. John took as step closer and scowled as he finally recognised the person. "Come on." John said to Cameron as he began to weave his way through the various students milling about in front of the main building.

The mocking mutters followed them as they walked, but John steadily ignored them. He was all too aware of Cameron striding along on his heels. Several students were perched amidst the round tables that decorated this side of the school; today they didn't even have the umbrella's out for shade. It didn't take them long to make it through the scattered about tables and onto the stretch of neatly mown grass that extended along side the wall.

John slowed his thunderous pace as he neared the student. "Walker." he called out. The student didn't turn his head, nor stop moving the roller up and down the wall. He sighed in frustration as he noticed the thin white cords running up from Walker's pant's pocket and up into his ears. "Walker!" he said, louder this time.

Walker gave a start and twisted around to stare at John. His eyes stayed on John for only a moment before moving to the left and staying there. John glanced to the side and saw Cameron standing beside him, staring at Walker with her usual impassive gaze.

John was about to open his mouth and say something when Walker lifted his right hand from the roller and removed the earphones from his ears. "Look, if this is about that crap on your locker, I'll get to it later."

He was directing his comment towards Cameron, but John stepped forward and glanced towards the wall. Last week it had been covered in graffiti, now the majority of it was pure white. "What are you doing? I didn't think that the school got students to do this."

Walker sighed and wiped a sweaty, paint-streaked hand across his T-shirt. The grey fabric was covered in different coloured paint, but the caption "Chicks dig Artists" was still easily visible across his chest. "They do when you get caught tagging the gym." Walker replied, turning his attention back to the wall. "I'm never making that mistake again. This is a requirement the school demanded so that they wouldn't expel my ass. Now I've gotta clean up this dump."

"Is this what our English teacher was talking about yesterday?" John managed to keep a tight leach on his emotions. If it was Walker who painted Cameron's locker, he wanted to make sure it was him before he punched him. More importantly, he wanted to find out what exactly had made him decide to paint it.

Walker glanced at him. "That's right; I forgot we're in English together. You're John, right?" He raised his eyebrows briefly and shrugged. "Nah, I was finishing up the science block yesterday. I had to stay after school for a few hours yesterday, the only reason I'm as far along as I am with this one. Though I swear, if someone has tagged that wall since I've been finished, I'm gonna find out who and he's gonna find everything in his locker dumped down the girl's toilets."

"There's been a lot of graffiti lately." It was Cameron who spoke this time. "It made Jordan Cowan jump off the roof. She was upset. Thought her parents were going to kill her."

Walker flinched. It was so sudden, over so quickly, but John knew he saw it. Around them the morning bell rang piercingly, and the concurrent of the other student's voices were joined by the rumble of footsteps.

"I don't know anything about that." Walker said, shifting to dip his roller into the tray of white paint lying by his feet. John frowned. Walker was lying. John had grown up learning to read people. It was as obvious to him as day.

"Don't lie to me." John said. "I'm already having a bad day."

John glanced at Cameron as she suddenly moved forward, grabbing Walker's collar and spinning him around until his back was pressing heavily against the wall. "Don't lie to him." Cameron said, perfectly mimicking John's tone. "He's already having a bad day."

Walker stared at Cameron is surprise. Out of all the things he would have been expecting, John suspected that this wasn't even on Walker's list. "That paint's still wet." Walker said evenly. "Can you let me go?"

"Did you paint her locker?" John asked. He glanced at Cameron; her face was still as impassive as ever, but John knew what her actions meant: she was ready to kill, at a single gesture from John; she was ready to tear Walker apart.

"No." Walker shook his head, wincing as Cameron's grasp tightened momentarily. "Look, no! Okay! It wasn't me. Why would I do it when I'm the one who has to clean it up?"

"You flinched." Cameron stated, as if that explained everything.

"That's because you're trying to break the wall with me!" Walker replied angrily. "I know you must be pissed about this whole thing, but I'm not the one who did it!"

"When I said that Jordan Cowan killed herself, you flinched."

"We were friends, okay. She was my friend and she killed herself. How would you feel? How would you react if someone came up to you and just said it like you didn't already know? She . . . she was my friend."

"Cameron." John said carefully, placing a hand on his protector's shoulder and shaking his head.

Cameron glanced back at him and released Walker. John couldn't help but sigh in relief. He didn't know what would have happened if Cameron suddenly decided to revert back into terminator mode again. He supposed that he would have been thankful that Walker was occupying her attention and not him.

"The bell's gone; don't you have class to get to?" Walker said petulantly as he adjusted his collar and turned back around. The cheerful atmosphere that had surrounded Walker before Cameron had grabbed him was gone now.

"Hey, John!" The cheerful voice reached John's ears and he turned around, smiling as his eyes fell on Riley, weaving her way around the tables towards them. "You gonna ditch class? I didn't think we had English today."

"No, I'm coming." John smiled.

"I heard about Cameron's locker." Riley said; there was a note of something in her voice. John wasn't sure, but he would have called in concern. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine." John looked over his shoulder and eyed Cameron. She was staring at him and Riley, standing completely still. Walker had resumed painting over the graffiti on the wall and his earphones were plugged back into his ears, but John noticed that he sometimes shot piercing glares at Cameron's back. He turned back to Riley and smiled reassuringly. He knew how to put on a façade when he wanted to. "I don't even think she's that bothered by it."

"Doesn't surprise me; your sister's not exactly . . . emotional."

"You mean normal."

Riley shrugged. "I was trying to put it delicately."

John chuckled. "Come on, let's go."

Riley grinned and linked her arm through John's. "Don't you wanna wait for your sister?"

John looked back over his shoulder and frowned. Cameron had moved from her position near the wall, and was now walking towards the sparse trees and foliage that according to Riley, the school had one day decided to plant in an attempt to be green. "Yeah, just hold on a minute." John said as he pulled his arm from Riley's grasp and walked towards Cameron. His protector had stopped just before the very first bush and was stroking a leaf as her head moved from side to side.

"Cameron?" John asked. "What are you doing?"

". . . I saw something." Cameron said after a moment's silence. "Hidden."

John glanced at the trees and shrugged. Nothing was there, nothing that he could see. "It was probably just a bird."

"A bird," Cameron replied, "probably." Her eyes moved slowly through the trees, seeing deeper and clearer than John's ever could.

"Come on. We're late enough as it is." John said as he turned and began to walk back towards Riley. He could hear Cameron's footsteps following slowly behind him. She wouldn't let him out of her sight. It was a feeling he got from her sometimes, and today he thought he'd even be a bit thankful for it. If only so he could make sure she was safe as well.

* * *

Walker watched John and Riley disappear around the corner of the main building. John's sister was trailing behind them slightly, seemingly lost in her own little world. He sighed and dipped his roller into the tray of paint; his shirt was stiffening uncomfortably as the sun dried the paint that had come off from the wall. He sighed, he was just glad he had decided to wear an old shirt today.

He quickly looked away as that Cameron chick suddenly turned her head and stared at him as she vanished around the corner. Those eyes made him squirm; it was like they saw right through you, and not at all in a pleasant way. "God, that girl's a freak." He muttered under his breath as he moved the roller back over the paint that had come off against his back.

He frowned and halted the roller's smooth movements as the hair on the back of his neck seemed to suddenly stand erect and an itch began to annoy the middle of his back. Walker let the roller fall from the wall as he turned around and stared intently into that stupid batch of trees, the school's failed attempt at making the campus more inviting.

He shivered slightly and shoved the roller back into the tray of paint, leaving it there. It was like Cameron's eyes were on him again. His eyes swept across the trees a few times before he turned back around and bent to pick up the tray and roller. "Screw this." He said under his breath. "I'll finish it later."

Even as he walked away, following the wall towards the main building, he was all too aware that the paranoid suspicion that someone's eyes were on him wasn't going away.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I'm back! I've caught the Terminator bug again and I had the sudden urge to continue. Sorry about the wait, but I think it was probably the best thing that could of happened. My entire thinking about the story has changed now, and I think it's for the better. And I'm really glad because this is the first chapter so far that didn't feel like it was being forced out when I was writing it. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5: The Walk Home

There was a defining buzz of excitement around the school. That was the first thing John noticed as soon as he stepped into the locker-lined hallways. It wasn't until he made his way through a group of quick-talking cheerleaders when his eyes finally fell upon the source of the buzz. A large white banner was pinned above one of the classrooms wide windows. On it was written one word, red, glittered, almost sickeningly so: Prom.

The teachers had tried their hardest, stretching their teaching abilities to the limit in an attempt to keep their classes moving as normal, but even so, the frenzied whispers and the occasional . . . no, constant blank looks from their students had provided more than enough disruptions that no one really learnt anything over the course of the day.

John had managed avoid being swept up in the sea of excitement. Prom was meant to be an occasion that teenagers were meant to look forward to, but he had more important things to keep his mind occupied.

There hadn't been anymore graffiti sprayed on Cameron's locker, or any other lockers for that matter. But John had opened his locker more than a few times today and had been greeted by silly sketches of his sister. He knew that Cameron was getting a lot more shoved into her locker and some were even thrown at her during class. Whoever started this got what they wanted and the school was taking it up in their stride.

John's eyes flickered down the hallway until they fell on Cameron, standing braced with one hand fiddling almost humanly with the hem of her shirt and the other clutching her bag strap. The school councillor had pulled her aside minutes after the last bell had rung and asked John to give him a moment to talk with her. John didn't need to be close to them to know what it was about.

"Hey, brooder. Penny for your thoughts?"

Riley's voice barely registered in John's mind. Cameron's eyes had just drifted over to him, as if checking he was still there. He heard Riley sigh, a note in the sound that made John tear his eyes away from Cameron and the councillor to focus on Riley. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said I love you, John Baum." Riley burst out empathically, causing several passing by students to slow their pace and stare at them, some students even stopped completely. "I'm completely head-over-heals; write your name in my margins, completely and utterly enamoured with _you_."

John stared at her, his mouth drooping open, completely unable to formulate a single word. It wasn't until he noticed the mischievous gleam in Riley's eyes that John released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It was a stupid reaction really, his teenage boy-self momentarily breaking into his prematurely adult world. "Very funny. Teaches me not to zone out again."

"But you didn't zone out, did you?" The humorous glint in Riley's eyes vanished, and the beginnings of a smile fled with it. "What's going on in that head of yours, John?"

He turned to glance over at Cameron. Her eyes were burning into him. Had she heard and misunderstood the exchange? It was a real possibility. The councillor – what was his name? – was looking in his direction, searching for what had captured Cameron's attention. "It's nothing." John replied, smiling weakly as Riley's eyebrows climbed. "Really! I'm just worried, that's all."

"About Cameron?" Riley peered over her shoulder. "She looks fine. You're more concerned about all of this than she is. I don't think _anything_ could get to that girl."

His mother had often told him that a person's eyes could tell you more than words ever could, you just had to know what to look for. There was something in Riley's eyes when she mentioned Cameron's name that John didn't recognise, even though he was sure he's seen it before. "Yeah . . . she's pretty . . . resilient, I guess."

"She must get it from your mother." The teasing laughter was back, no trace of that something else remained.

"Yeah, you're probably right." John managed to chuckle.

Riley nodded agreeably and smiled wider. "So, in other news, I don't know if you've noticed, but Prom's not too far off and . . . ."

"And I haven't asked you yet." John finished for her, returning her smile.

"Well, I kinda assumed that we were going together anyway, but if you want to go through the motions, I'm completely fine with that."

John scoffed and relaxed against the lockers, regarding Riley thoughtfully. "You wanna go to prom with me?"

"Oh, of course I'll go with you, John." Riley beamed. "Now that I've cemented our date, I actually have to go; I _cannot_ miss the bus again. Not all of us are lucky enough to live…seven miles away from school."

John noticed the faint trace of sarcasm in Riley's voice at the last sentence, but he let it roll over him. She didn't understand why he insisted on walking home, not when he had his licence, and not when the bus route would take him within a mile of his house. John always just shrugged his shoulders, and that's what he did now. In truth, he relished the freedom. "Yeah, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He blinked as Riley swiftly darted forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "You'd better." She said, moving back away and turning to stride down the now nearly deserted hallway, past Cameron and the councillor. Only the stragglers were rummaging through their lockers now and outside John could hear one of the many school buses beginning its route. "I will hold you to it, you know."

John smiled and shook his head softly as he watched Riley disappear out of the main building. He slumped back against the lockers and directed his gaze back towards Cameron. Her eyes were still flickering between him and the councillor. John thought if she weren't trying to fit in at school and society, she might have just ignored the councillor completely and left.

"I would have run as soon as she said 'love.'"

John frowned and ripped his eyes away from Cameron, turning around and looking for the source of the voice. He sighed in frustration when his eyes fell on Walker. The paint-smeared student was kneeling down on a small paint-streaked tarp in front of Cameron's locker; a paintbrush and a metal scraper were held in either hand and a container full of clear, foul-smelling liquid was resting by his knee. "Do you have a habit of listening in on other people's conversations?" John asked.

"You sound just like my sisters." Walker joked as he lifted the paintbrush and ran the soft bristles across the painting. "I'll tell you what I tell them. I'm just always in the right place, at—"

"At the right time, yeah," John finished. He moved from against the lockers and wandered down the hallway towards Walker.

"It's a shame, really." Walker said jabbing the graffito with his brush. "This is actually pretty good, better than the usual crap you see around here."

John narrowed his eyes as he stared at the image. He hadn't really gotten a good look at it before; he had been completely hell-bent on getting out of school as soon as he saw it. He could see what Walker meant, no matter how much he hated to admit it. The painted version of Cameron seemed to stare directly at him with her pair of unusually large eyes. Her entire head was tilted slightly to the side in an expression of confusion and was overly large compared with the rest of her body. But the thing that stood out most was the strips of apparent metal plating that covered half of her head, and the bright blue eye that gleamed mechanically.

"It's very clever, if you think about it." Walker continued conversationally. "Cameron _does_ have big eyes and she tilts her head a lot as well. It's pretty sexy . . . if she didn't always look so . . . blank." He drew in a breath and hurried on. "And the head, well that's just been done big to drawn attention to it. Whoever did this is very good, I'm glad I took a picture before I started."

John stiffened and glared down at Walker. "You took a picture?"

Walker bit his lip and quickly looked back at the locker. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna spread it around. Though I'm sure it will be soon enough. I saw a lot of people doing it today."

John watched as the brush came down again and part of the pain began to peel away. He hadn't even considered photo's of this. _Stupid!_

"I think someone would actually have to meet Cameron in person to actually make the connection between the two." He looked back towards Cameron and the councillor and his face twisted in distaste. "She's . . . well. She's one-of-a-kind."

John nodded in agreement. "She really is." He managed to smile reassuringly as Cameron suddenly materialised at his side. The last thing he wanted was for Cameron to suddenly get violent again.

"Ready to go?" she asked. "We're already fifteen minutes behind. Mom might worry."

"Yeah, I'm ready." John replied, glancing back down at Walker. He was keeping his eyes on the locker, wielding the paintbrush with hard, rushed strokes. Maybe he was still bitter at Cameron for pushing him into a wall. John hoped not, the last thing he wanted was for someone else to get involved in all of this.

He turned back around and began to walk down the hallway, kicking discarded balls of paper. He knew what most of them contained, and it made his body stiffen with anger. Cameron was at his side. She didn't appear to have any concern for the student's taunts.

"Hey, Baum!"

John stopped walking and turned around as Walker suddenly called out. To his surprise, it wasn't him that Walker was looking at, but at Cameron.

"If you decide to shove me against another wall tomorrow, can you make sure that I haven't just painted it?"

John snorted and turned back around. Cameron remained where she was for a second as she processed Walker's words and then followed John without giving an answer.

* * *

"What were you and the councillor talking about?" John finally managed to ask as he and Cameron walked. They were walking through the park, marking the halfway point of their journey home. In the distance John could see several children playing in the playground. Sometimes he wished their route took him closer to that spot, if only so he could maybe catch a glimpse of his kid-father again. It was silly, really, he knew that.

"Councillor Dan asked me if I wanted to talk to him about the painting. I told him no. I am not grieving so I don't need grief counselling. He then went on to say that he knew this must be hard for me to talk about."

John smiled at Cameron's play-by-play. If it were him, he would have just said nothing. "You know it's not actually called grief counselling. It's therapy. He just wanted to make sure that you were alright."

"I know." Cameron looked at him. "He said that. He was worried that I would self-terminate. But I cannot. It goes against my programming."

"He told you that?" John's eyebrows rose dangerously high.

"No. But his tone, actions and word choice led me to the conclusion that that was what he was thinking. Humans can be very predictable at times."

John's eyebrows lowered again and his smile reappeared. He shook his head lightly as he gazed back around the park. He could no longer see the playground, and the children's screams of excitement only faintly reached his ears.

"When I was talking to Councillor Dan, you were talking to Riley and then Walker." Cameron said in a manner that made John look back at her curiously. "What did you talk about?"

"I asked Riley to Prom." John said, examining Cameron's face for the slightest change in expression. Aside from her head tilting slightly, everything remained the same. "And I talked to Walker about the painting."

"He was forthcoming with information." Cameron nodded agreeably. "But he looked like he was withholding information; information that we may need."

"If you could hear us, why did you ask?"

"It seemed like something I should do. Ask questions. Make conversation. You have been withdrawn lately."

John couldn't hear the children now, only the wind rustling through the park's mass of trees. Cameron just watched him as they walked, waiting for his reply. She wouldn't talk until he did; if he tried to play the silence game with her, he would lose. He would _always_ lose. "I know." He said simply. "I don't mean to be."

"You are at that age." Cameron said, nodding her head knowledgably.

John laughed, "Oh, yeah? And what age is—?" he cut off as Cameron suddenly spun in place, her eyes moving from him towards the thick trees. "What?" John demanded quickly. "What is it?"

"Noise," Cameron replied. "Someone's in there."

The air grew abnormally silent and became so tense John thought he might suffocate. The leaves from the bushes and trees rustled frantically, not the gentle sway caused by the breeze, but by something big, out-of-place. His heartbeat began to quicken, and he could already feel the adrenaline start to flow.

The rustling sound increased in intensity as a man emerged from the copse. Sunlight reflected harshly from metal and John's eyes widened though whether from surprise or fear, he couldn't tell. He didn't need the brief flash of red light emitting from the man's eyes to know what it was; the exposed metal from patches of torn away kin and flesh were identification enough.

"Run!" Cameron ordered, grabbing John's arm and forcing him further away. "Don't look back! Just go!"

The terminator walked forward, each step careful and precise. The John's surprise, the metal's artificial eyes didn't even regard him, they remained completely and utterly focused on Cameron. It's torn and tattered arms extended and moved quickly towards Cameron's neck as it approached. Cameron's face seemed to tighten as she shoved the male terminator's arms aside and pushed out with her own.

Her hands collided with the terminator's upper body with a heavy thud, and the terminator was flung back. It hit the ground heavily, tearing up grass and weeds as it slid back.

Cameron stepped towards it, but stumbled and fell to one knee as the other terminator lashed out with its heavy-booted foot. It struck once again and Cameron was knocked off balance, falling on her side.

John nearly shouted out as the male terminator managed to push himself back to his feet and grabbed Cameron roughly by her shoulders. The terminator spun around quickly and tossed Cameron aside like a broken rag-doll.

He stepped back as the terminator's eyes finally landed on his face. It stared at him, its head tilting slightly. John could imagine the numbers and icons and probabilities being calculated as the terminator assessed his threat level. Or was it assessing him? Did it know who he was?

John was about to sprint away when the terminator redirected his attention back to the fallen Cameron. It walked towards where Cameron was still sprawled facedown on the grass and bent down, crashing it's knee into the middle of Cameron's back. Its arms came down and wrapped tightly around Cameron's neck. It jerked backwards and pulled up with its arms while simultaneously pressing its knee even harder into Cameron's back, threatening to split her in two.

John didn't know why he acted. Adrenaline and fear pumped through his body, clouding his thoughts. He closed the distance between him and the terminator quickly and pressed his foot heavily against the terminator's shoulder. John grunted with effort and pushed as hard as he could. He knew from experience that these things, the older models in particular, could be easily knocked off balance; a lot easier than a human could in some situations. They were big, they were heavy, their metal endoskeletons and complex mechanics couldn't move or react fast enough to save themselves from hitting the ground.

The terminator toppled over, releasing its grip on Cameron's neck as it fell to the ground. John quickly fell to his knees and rolled Cameron over onto her back. Her eyes stared blankly, they weren't moving at all. The pressure exerted by the other terminator must have been too great. One-hundred and twenty seconds. _Crap!_

The terminator's eyes were focused on John as it slowly raised itself back to its feet. John realised that he had probably just gone from zero percent threat to possibly annoyance, if that. John backed away and the terminator stepped over Cameron's motionless body as it walked towards him.

John hesitated, his eyes darting between Cameron and the oncoming terminator. It was faster then him, they were all faster. Oh, God, why did he have to save her? It wasn't really fair, what else was he supposed to do? He groaned in pain as the terminator grabbed his collar and tossed him away, just like he had done to Cameron before.

Black spots danced in front of John's vision as he struggled to breath. His chest was tightening painfully. He felt like he'd been thrown into a wall. He struggled to twist his body upright, only managing to lift himself to his hands and knees before the pain forced him to stop. The terminator was walking slowly towards him, each step only taking a second, but to John it seemed a lot longer than that.

He tried to move away, tried to avoid the terminator's foot as it pushed his side just like John had previously done to it. John sprawled on his side, gasping for breath. The terminator was staring down at him, its eyes flashing red once more.

It lifted its foot once more and let it hover above John's head. John forced himself to keep his eyes open, staring defiantly at the terminator's face. He knew it was going to end like this, Derek had told him as much back when they sabotaged the traffic system. One of these days, a terminator was going to kill him. John knew that it was going to happen; he just never thought it would be here, now.

Suddenly there was a sickening thud and the terminator lowered its foot back on the ground to steady itself. John quickly rolled away and grimaced as he rose back to his knees. The terminator was standing stiffly, but what drew John's attention was the bloodstained fist producing from the terminator's thigh. The fist disappeared, and John could see the destroyed circuits and hydraulics in the terminator's leg.

He smiled weakly as Cameron stood stiffly behind the terminator, grabbing the things arm and jerking, twisting it back. John could hear the terminator's endoskeleton groan and then there was a loud crack. The sound alone caused John to wince as he watched Cameron release the arm. It fell limply to the terminator's side.

Cameron pressed down on the terminator's shoulders, forcing it to the ground with a ground-shaking thud. She pressed her knee against the terminator's back, much like what he had done to her and wrenched its head back. The terminator's endoskeleton groaned.

"Knife!" Cameron ordered. The terminator's struggles suddenly stopped and it remained limp as Cameron wrenched back harder.

John scrambled to his feet, wincing as his body ached painfully. Somehow his bag had managed to stay on his back during the struggle. He quickly unzipped it and rummaged through, searching for his knife. "It's not here!" he shouted frantically. "We're not allowed them at school!"

"In my bag!" Cameron replied quickly.

John's eyes flashed towards Cameron's waist to where her bag usually hung, but it wasn't there. He looked up, past Cameron and the other terminator to where Cameron had lay sprawled on the ground. Her bag was by itself in the grass, a single spot of colour in the field of green.

He darted past Cameron and sprinted towards the bag. Each step was painful, but manageable, the pain wasn't nearly as bad as it was before. He skidded to a stop as he approached the bag and fell to his knees once more. He scooped up the bag and stood up once again, unclasping and fumbling through the bag as he ran back.

His hand touched cool metal and John pulled out Cameron's knife, placing it in her outstretched hand as he slid to a halt beside her. He didn't have time to consider how she had managed to sneak it into school.

"Thank you." Cameron said simply as she grasped the knife and quickly dug it into the terminator's skull. John breathed heavily as he watched Cameron peel the terminator's synthetic hair and flesh away, exposing the endoskeleton. A sharp hiss sounded as she dug the knife under the chip's cap and flicked it away.

Cameron's hands dug into the terminator's metal skull as she reached into the opening and twisted, pulling the chip out.

"Call Sarah," Cameron said as she examined the chip, climbing stiffly off the terminator's back. Only a few light scratches marred her face, barely penetrating her synthetic flesh. They would be gone by morning, it was nothing major, they barely hit minor.

John delved back into his bag and pulled out his cell phone, quickly dialling his mother's number. He looked back at Cameron as the dial tone rang. She looked back at him and John would have sworn she looked a bit sad.

"We can't walk home now."


	6. Chapter 6: 2027, Part One

Katherine Brewster squinted as she gazed into the distance. The evening sun assaulted her eyes; not even raising a hand to block the sun's light was enough to stop it completely. God she missed sunglasses. Sometimes she found it odd how she suddenly remembered things from the old world, objects she had taken for granted. Maybe Barnes still had a pair left? He always seemed to find things in the wastelands.

She sighed and looked away from the sun and glanced at each member of her troop in one wide sweep, her eyes finally coming to rest on the youngest of three. Mousy hair fell forward over his face, sometimes coming to rest over his eyes. She had seen him take his hand away from his rifle to sweep it out of his face too many times today. It was a little thing, but little things often caused people to die in this war.

"We'll wait another minute or two." Brewster said, moving her gaze away from the youngest. Nobody would ever call her tone authoritative, but people listened to her regardless. They all knew who she was. "Give you all time to catch your breath. We've come a long way." The information was for the youngest, the other two soldiers knew what they had to do; they didn't even need to rest.

"How much further is the med centre anyhow, general?" The youngest asked, raising his gloved hand to smooth his hair away from his eyes again.

Brewster's eyes swung back to him and she almost smiled when she noticed him fidget slightly with his weapon. Casey was the newbie, fresh out of the tunnels and probably far too eager to run into a metal on this roundabout trip. The inexperience would fade, but sometimes the eagerness never did. "Another mile. Not too much longer."

"It's near the fringe." Another one of her soldiers continued. He was a lot more experienced than Casey and had been crawling around the wasteland of rubble and destruction ever since Judgment Day. Like a lot of soldier's his age, his eyes were hard; it was always the first thing she noticed whenever she saw him. "The machines haven't noticed it since we set it up a few years back."

"Doesn't mean they won't destroy it if they find it," Brewster interjected.

The male soldier glanced at her and nodded in agreement before turning back to Casey. "It ain't even a med centre, more of a way station. It's good for a few 'hang in there babies' but that's about it. Some scavengers, drifters, maybe, will hole up in there as long as it has supplies, most of the time even longer than that. We bring them back; restock it, do whatever needs doing."

"What if the place is empty?" Casey asked.

The male soldier smiled humourlessly. "There's _always_ someone holing up there. But if not, then we've wasted our time coming all the way out here."

"It's not a waste of time." Brewster said. "We need what's left of the medical supplies. Connor's last attack on the machines left us battered."

Both the male soldier and Casey turned their heads to stare at her, even other soldier who so far had remained separate from their conversation tilted her head to stare over the male soldier's shoulder. John Connor was always a subject of interest, all living legends were.

"Connor's last attack?" Casey looked between her and the other soldier's curiously.

"On a machine factory, a few miles into the desert," The female soldier explained. Her accent differed from the others. She had come here with other members of the Australian resistance and she had found her place here. Brewster tried not to ask too many questions, it was hard for some people, but Jesse had been surprising tight-lipped lately. "He ordered us to retreat when we were just about ready to blow the place. The machines came at us when we rang. A lot of people died."

"He had a reason for it!" The male resistance fighter insisted. "He wouldn't have just decided to leave us exposed. He had a plan."

"Wish all you want, Walker, but that's what Connor did." Brewster sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what's going on in his head. He won't talk to anyone anymore. He just—"

"General." Walker said quickly. His eyes were completely focused on her now.

Brewster frowned; there was a hint of something in those eyes, she had seen that look before. "What?" she asked.

Walker was silent for a moment, but then suddenly looked away. "We should keep moving . . . ."

". . . Alright," Brewster nodded slowly. "Jesse, you take Casey and scout ahead. Walker and I will follow. _Stay together_. You even smell metal, you hide. I don't want anyone hurt, okay?" The orders were for Casey's benefit, the others all knew what to do and how to do it.

Jesse and Casey hoisted their rifles and began to trudge towards a collapsed building. It was always safer to hug cover, even if it meant going out of the way to find it. Brewster kept her eyes on Walker as they waited for the other's to gain some ground. "What's wrong? I know when something's bothering you."

"You doubt Connor." Walker replied. He said it as a statement, his voice ripe with barely concealed disapproval.

"I've known him long enough to know when to start doubting him." Brewster said softly. "The last few months have been tough, _tougher_ than usual and lately John hasn't been leaving the bunker at all. Another year of this and there won't be any of us left to fight this war."

"The commander can't be just sitting around. He knows what he's doing. He's always known."

Brewster sighed; this was a problem with most of the people John had saved earlier on in the war. They all tended to follow blindly. "Yeah, I'm sure your right."

Walker looked at her dubiously. That hint of something had gone from his eyes; whatever it was, he had kept the emotion in check. "You don't sound very convincing, general."

"I'm worried about him." Brewster admitted. "I've never seen him like this before."

"Have a little faith." Walker said positively. "Connor's led us for too long to start making mistakes now."

Brewster held his gaze for a small moment before turning to tramp after Jesse and Casey. "John _is_ human. He does make mistakes."

"And you sound like you're ready to burn him at the stake."

Brewster stiffened, her eyes narrowing in anger as she stared back at Walker. "I'd better not hear those words from you again!" she said tightly. Walker returned her glare evenly, but didn't say anything in reply. She was thankful for it. She was slow to anger, most of the time, but when she got riled up enough even John somehow found a mission that just somehow needed him at its head.

She breathed in deeply and loosened her grip on her rifle. She hadn't even realised that she had tightened her fingers. Her boots thudding against the uneven grounds was the only sound she could hear for a moment until Walker's heavier step hesitantly followed her. The sun still stung her eyes as she looked towards the collapsed building ahead, but this time she ignored it.

The slender silhouettes of Jesse and Casey were darting around the wreckage, clambering up abandoned piles of brick and mortar and steel as they examined the surrounding area ahead.

Her brow furrowed as Jesse raised her arm and waved four times. It was a crude signal, but it got the message across. They were stopping. Something was wrong.

She lengthened her pace, slowly developing into a jog as she followed the vague footprints smudged into the dirt towards the collapsed building. "What is it?" she hissed as she came stop a stop at the base of the wreckage.

Jesse jerked her head and pointed to the north. Brewster frowned and clambered up the pile of debris. The look on Jesse's face was enough to motivate her into moving quicker than safety would recommend. Steel beams dislodged under her feet and occasionally pieces of brick crumbled and smashed as they fell to the ground.

"Over there."

Brewster's face fell as she gazed in the direction Jesse was pointing. She didn't need the direction to notice that. Even in the old world, it would have attracted every pair of eyeballs for a minute or two, maybe even longer.

Smoke.

Dark smoke rose in a thinning stream a mile or so from their position. She knew where it was coming from. The machines didn't have any camps or factories in this area; the only structure was hidden under the ruins of broken buildings and rubble. "The bunker . . . ." Brewster breathed. "No, no, no!"

"What do we do?" Casey asked. His eyes were trained on the smoke, and Brewster noticed his knuckles were white from his tightened grasp on his rifle.

". . . We continue on as planned." Brewster said carefully. "Salvage what we can . . . check for any survivors."

"Survivors?" Jesse said cynically, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Do you really believe that anyone's alive in there?"

"We're going down there anyway." Brewster sighed and took steps towards the smoke. "You all know the drill. Keep your eyes peeled, the machines might still be lurking."

"Perfect!" she head Walker exclaim as he finally reached the collapsed building. "That's it! That's another outpost we can't use. Damn machines!"

Brewster didn't say anything, but she noted his frustrated expression. She was close to looking the same. She was tired of the machines always being a step ahead of them; tired of always arriving too late to prevent destruction. Nothing seemed to go their way anymore, not even the little things. She jerked her head, signalling her soldiers to move and began to trudge towards the smoke.

Soft mutters reached her ears as she clambered down the other side of the ruins; words of annoyance from Walker and irritated retorts from Jesse. Casey was being abnormally silent. He had been full of incessant chatter and questions directed at everyone since they had left Home Plate, but now he wasn't even opening his mouth.

She glared at the smoke with narrowed eyes. Where there was smoke, there was fire. And she didn't want any of her fighters to get burned.

* * *

Jesse allowed her eyes to move, never looking at the same place for more than a few seconds. It was second nature now. She had trained herself to observe while fighting the machines in Sydney; it was a skill that had saved her life and the lives of her fellow soldiers more than once. It was that very skill which convinced her commander to order a retreat when the machines overran Sydney Harbour Bridge, and it was that skill which told her to jump into the harbour when the machines sent their rockets to destroy the bridge and cut off the human's retreat.

Now the only thing her observations were telling her was that they were alone. It was strange, the machines were _always_ about. They were in their territory, yet the only sign of metal she could see was an airborne Hunter Killer, a faint smear of off-colour barely visible in the sky. They would have plenty of warning before that thing came anywhere near them.

The smoke had faded into thin plumes by the time they reached the supposed supply bunker. She had never come out this way before, but she knew that both General Brewster and Walker had many times. Their fallen faces and frustrated glares were all-too familiar. It was the little things that just piled and piled and piled until one day they just reached breaking point.

The supply bunker was a little thing, but it was the source of hope. But that was before the machines had gotten to it.

She slowed her pace and lifted her salvaged plasma rifle ever so slightly when General Brewster stopped and stared at the destroyed bunker.

"Be careful." General Brewster said in a low voice. "We've been left surprised before. Don't be afraid to kick a body if you see one. If you see any medical supplies, gauze, syringes, painkillers, anything; pick them up, we're not coming back here."

Jesse nodded and walked forward, heading towards the collapsed entrance of the bunker. Smoke drifted out of the narrow passage under the mass amount of fire-damaged and smoke-stained rubble. There wasn't much, just the remnant of the original fire, but it was enough to make going in through the front door dangerous, especially if machines were waiting on the other side.

"Remember to breathe." Jesse heard General Brewster say Casey as she walked by the pair. Casey looked worried, and definitely more than a little afraid. If it came down to a fight, that fear would keep him alive. The only thing being gung-ho against a machine got someone was a bullet somewhere it shouldn't be.

Harsh stones dug into her back as she pressed herself against the right side of the entrance. Walker was on the left, testing his rifle's sights before glancing at her and raising three fingers.

Jesse watched his fingers fall, one by one, before darting around the corner and plunging through the bunker's entrance. Smoke assaulted her nose and eyes and sudden heat caused her to wince as she moved. She blinked rapidly and resisted the urge to cough.

Whatever fires had burned when the bunker was raided had long since died down, leaving only the remnants of smoke and broken beams and fire-stained walls. The ceiling had collapsed in places, allowing sunlight to filter through the holes.

"You see anything?" Walker asked softly. He was moving past her, stepping further into the destroyed bunker.

Jesse scanned the destruction again and shook her head, "No, nothing."

"Nether." He glanced around then turned back to the entrance and yelled, "It's clear!"

Jesse looked at him briefly before walking deeper into the bunker. She nudged an overturned cabinet with her foot and stared at a sentence that was spray-painted onto one of the fire-damaged walls. "Hang in there, baby." It was code, meant a place of a safety, a place to hide. _Not so much anymore._ She thought grimly.

She came to a stop by two bodies, lying face-down on the ground. They were covered in plasma burns and one looked like he had a few broken bones. "There are two over here," Jesse said loudly, "both dead." She glanced over her shoulder and looked at the entrance. General Brewster and Casey had come through the narrow entrance and were staring around. Casey's eyes were wide, but General Brewster's face was expressionless.

"There ain't any supplies that I can see, the machines never leave anything behind that we can use." Walker said irritably. He was picking his way through the wreckage too, turning over cabinets and occasionally bending down to examine something on the ground. "But I do see a corpse too . . . . Strange, doesn't look to have a scratch on him."

Jesse frowned and looked at Walker through the smoky haze. He was staring at a fragile body on the ground, sprawled out like a broken doll. Her eyes darted back towards the entrance when General Brewster walked forward.

"A sleeper?" General Brewster asked.

"Doubt it." Walker replied as he drew back his leg and nudged the body with his foot. "He looks far too . . . scrawny to be a sleeper."

"Put a round in his chest anyway, just to be sure."

Walker shrugged and lowered his rifle until it was angling down at the ground. Jesse frowned as something glinted on the body and began to walk towards Walker. Silver; she was sure she had seen it. She jerked suddenly as the body's right arm lashed out with blinding speed, forming into a gleaming blade and plunging into Walker's stomach.

A second that felt like an eternity passed and Jesse sprang forward, raising her plasma rifle and weaving her way towards Walker as fast as she could. Blood pounded in her ears and her heart was beating so wildly with adrenaline that she was sure it was about to burst from her chest.

The gleaming metal blade jerked out from Walker's body, now covered in his blood. His eyes were wide and his mouth was wide open in an expression of bewilderment and pain. Another second seemed to dance by in slow-motion as Walker fell to the ground. Jesse fired three short bursts from her plasma rifle as the body slowly stood up. Every inch of it had turned silver. Its body grew larger, thicker until it was easily around Walker's size. The blasts struck the silver body's back, leaving three giant, bubbling holes as the silver metal boiled.

She swore sharply as the gaping holes in the silver body slowly closed over until once again it was smooth metal. A T-1000! Here, of all places! She ducked behind a pile of rubble as the T-1000 bent down and picked up Walker's fallen rifle. Heated shots of the plasma rifle soared over Jesse's head and she tried to make herself smaller. Soon enough, the sound of other plasma rifles firing filled the bunker and the heated shots began to fly wildly through the air.

Jesse sucked in a deep breath and darted out from her cover, firing rapidly at any hint of silver. She needed to get to Walker. She wouldn't let, she_ couldn't_ let any of her comrades die!

She grunted in pain as something heavy flew into her, sending her sailing back roughly to the ground. Dark spots flickered in front of her vision as she tried to prop herself up. Her left arm burned painfully and she could feel thick liquid trickling down her forearm. Blood. _Her blood_.

She blinked rapidly as she stared up at the muscular silhouette looming over her. It was staring at her. It wasn't raising its stolen rifle, it was just staring. Jesse barely resisted the urge to shudder as the terminator looked her up and down and then turned away, walking towards the entrance.

Jesse groaned as she rolled over, the pain in her arm doubling as she moved. The earth seemed to sway under her feet as she stood limply. She clutched her arm and stared around the bunker until her eyes fell on Walker. General Brewster had managed to make her way over to Walker and was examining his stab wound quickly. She was looking around desperately as she worked, her eyes meeting Jesse's briefly before looking towards the terminator in concern.

She stumbled forward as she crossed the bunker and fell to her knees beside General Brewster and Walker. "How bad is it?" she hissed. Blood was leaking freely from the stab wound and Walker had his teeth clenched in pain. The fragile pressure General Brewster was applying wasn't doing much.

"Went straight through; missed his spine, but he's bleeding badly. We have to get him back to Home Plate or he's going to die!"

"He'll die if we move him . . . ."

"He'll die if we don't." General Brewster replied quickly, sucking in a deep breath. ". . . Where's Casey?"

Jesse swore again and leapt to her feet, ignoring the sudden rush of dizziness that accompanied her movement. She'd forgotten about Casey. The swift bursts of plasma blasts being fired still boomed through the bunker. The terminator had stopped moving, its liquid metal flesh closing over, no matter how many blasts hit it. Casey was sliding away from the terminator on his back, firing at it rapidly. The terminator was staring down at him, just like it had done to her.

Suddenly the terminator bent down and a bone chilling thud sounded as metal met flesh and bone. It stood up and flung Casey's limp body over its shoulder.

The blood pounding in Jesse's ears seemed to slow, she was sure that everything had begun moving at a sluggish pace. She lifted her rifle, but didn't fire; she couldn't risk hitting Casey by mistake. He was new! They were meant to take care of him! But what could she do? It wouldn't help anyone if she died making a futile rescue attempt.

Silence reigned supreme as the terminator turned around and started towards the bunker's only exit, ignoring her completely as it walked.

It was like a switch had been flicked as soon as the terminator left the bunker and everything seemed to resume moving at its normal pace. Jesse blinked and released a pent-up breath she hadn't realised she had been holding and turned to face General Brewster. "It took him!" she said numbly. "It _took_ him . . .!"

General Brewster looked at the bunker's exit. She looked exhausted. "I . . . I know."

"We have to go after it!" Jesse insisted. "We were meant to look after the kid, but we let that _thing_ take him! He was counting on us!"

"What do you me to do?!" General Brewster said angrily. "Walker's bleeding badly. You look like you can barely move your left arm. We aren't equipped to fight that thing! If it's taken him, it means he's still alive. The machines don't clean up the dead! We'll go back to Home Plate, tell John what happened here. He needs to know about this."

Jesse looked back at the bunker's entrance and said in a more moderated tone, "I hope you're right about that. I really do."


	7. Chapter 7: 2027, Part Two

Walker's blood seeped through the rough bandages Kate had pressed tightly against his stab wound and made her fingers slip across his rapidly cooling and clammy skin whenever he stumbled. Walker had been silent for while now, before he had been groaning and wincing and occasionally crying out in pain. It was a bad sign, and it only made Kate increase their already hazardous pace. Night had fallen not long after they had left the bunker. The lack of light had just made the journey a lot worse.

She could hear Jesse panting on Walker's other side, helping her prop him up. Her arm was broken; there was no doubt about that in Kate's mind. But Jesse hadn't complained once, only the occasional wince reminded Kate of her injuries.

Kate swore loudly as Walker's legs collapsed underneath his weight, bringing both her and Jesse down with him. "Come on, Walker." She told him as she readjusted her grasp. "We're almost back."

Walker just looked at her blankly, like he was just staring out into space; even in the darkness; she could see his dilated pupils clearly. "Thirsty." Walker croaked and swallowed weakly.

Kate frowned and renewed worry filled her body. "He's going into shock." She told Jesse urgently as she pulled Walker to his feet. "We're not far away now; gotta hurry!"

Jesse nodded and wrapped her good arm around Walker's shoulders, propping him up.

Kate's eyes darted around the surrounding debris as she looked for the faint markings signalling the way to Home Plate. During the day it was simple for any soldier to find their way home, as long as they knew where to look it wasn't an issue. During the night though, the twists and turns were almost too much to memorise, especially when in a rush. The directions were simple, created from the deceitfulness of the human mind. A lopsided bar of steel pointed to the west – they turned and stumbled east. It was the simple tricks and play that the machines had never been able to deduce; they came to conclusions based on the information given. Humans followed no such rules.

But even so, Kate found herself staring blankly at a cross formed by two fallen pieces of rubble before finally spotting the gap in-between two fallen buildings. "There." She said under her breath as she directed Jesse and Walker into the gap.

They stumbled on for what seemed like another minute before Kate suddenly stopped and looked at a broken door hanging off its hinges. It was a wonky fit, but it concealed its true nature better than Kate sometimes believed.

"Brewster, Katherine." She said quickly, rolling back her sleeve to reveal the shiny silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist. "General: _zero-nine-one-eight-one-nine-eight-five_."

The doorway remained still for a moment before it suddenly burst open and the laser sights of several plasma rifles trained on her chest. She was relieved the dogs weren't barking. If they had, she wouldn't still be standing. The rifles owner's would have blown her away.

"We need urgent medical attention." She told them, her chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. "Corporal Walker, serial number: _zero-four-two-three-two-zero-zero-two_, has been critically injured, he's gone into Hypovolemic shock."

". . . Get inside!" A gruff voice ordered. "Quickly!"

Kate released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and quickly ducked through the crooked doorway and into the heavily-guarded entrance of Home Plate.

Several hands grabbed Walker from her as soon as they stepped inside and lay him down on the rough-concrete floor.

"Get him to the infirmary!" The same gruff voice said. They didn't need a bracelet to know that Walker was a human, the fact that he was bleeding to death was more than enough proof.

The sound of resistance fighter's carrying Walker away and Jesse's steady voice reciting her name, rank and serial number danced in Kate's ears. She was in a daze, and soon only a single thought echoed repeatedly through her mind.

"I need to speak to Connor."

* * *

The murderous look on Kate's face was enough to deter most people milling around the maze of tunnels as she stormed towards John Connor's War Room. She had managed to keep a tight rein on her emotions so far and she wanted to keep it that way. If pushed she didn't know if she would scream and shout or break down in a pile of tears. She hoped it was the former.

"Kate! Hey, Kate!"

She turned her head to regard the man who called her name but didn't slow down to stop. Major Perry was one of Connor's most trusted Generals, and he and Kate had been friends ever since they had first met.

"Where the hell have you been?" Perry demanded as he quickly fell into place beside her. "We've been looking for you all afternoon! You just disappeared."

"I went to the northern supply bunker, Perry." Kate replied shortly. The tunnel curved around and divided into two separate lines. Kate didn't even hesitate as she took the left turn. Soldiers glanced at her as she stormed by; some looked concerned, while other's faces were unreadable. "The machines sacked the place."

"Damn it, Kate." Perry replied angrily. "What the hell were you thinking? I know that Connor told you to leave the place alone. I was there!"

"We needed supplies! What was I supposed to do? Our people are dying from infections because we don't have enough medical supplies. Last week a little girl died from a scratch, Perry. _A scratch_!"

Perry was silent for a moment, but then continued speaking. "Look, I know this is hard, but we have these rules for a reason. You know that, you helped make them!"

"And you know that in certain situations we have to act, regardless of any rules." Kate countered. "John knows that better than anyone!"

The horde of Tech-Com soldiers began to thin as they reached the end of the tunnel and emerged into a wide room with several doors leading to different bays and tunnels. Kate stopped and rested her hand against the smooth concrete wall and stared at one of the steel doorways.

"Maybe you should get some rest before you talk to Connor." Perry said softly. "You look like hell."

Kate snorted and a humourless chuckle escaped her mouth. "Thanks, Perry. Very astute" She said, turning to face her long time friend. His comment had made her suddenly aware of just how exhausted she was. The rush of adrenaline and the long, arduous trek back home had taken its toll on her body. "But this can't wait. John needs to know."

"It _can_ wait." Perry insisted. "The news that the machines got to another one of our bunkers isn't desperate. Hell, I can tell him that. Go get some sleep."

Kate sighed and stepped towards the door to John Connor's rooms. "A T-1000 was waiting for us. It stabbed Walker, broke Jesse's arm and took Private Casey with it when it left." She looked over her shoulder; taking in Perry's widened eyes and raised eyebrows. "This can't wait."

She looked at Perry in surprise when she felt him close the distance between him and the door and hold it open for her. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He said gravely.

Her eyebrows rose at Perry's almost funereal tone; it wasn't like him to sound so concerned. She hesitated a moment before shaking her head and stepping through the doorway into the brightly lit room beyond. Long tables covered in sheets of valuable paper and even more precious maps. The majority of the maps had been scribbled with rough notes, detailing machine hotspots and factories, but not a trace of the resistance encampments were present on the map, even recording them in a room as safe as this was more risk than they could afford to take.

John Connor's private rooms acted as the unofficial War Room for the leaders of the resistance. There always seemed to be a handful of his top generals inside at all times, today was no exception. Long-time soldiers Nathan Reynolds and Alan Wash were speaking from their respective positions around the room. Reynolds was standing in front of the door to John Connor's bedroom, while Wash was lounging precariously on one of the many salvaged wooden stools that were littered around the room. Kate's eyes lingered on one of the high-backed chairs sitting in one of the corners; she had fallen asleep on that chair more times than she could remember.

"Kate!" Reynolds exclaimed when she entered the room. 'Where the hell have you been?"

"That's exactly what I asked her." Perry chirped in before Kate could respond.

Kate shot Perry a furious look, and then drew herself up to her full height to face Reynolds. "I need to see John."

"John's busy." Wash cut in quickly, swinging back to a more stable position on his chair.

"Busy with what?" Kate demanded. Reynolds and Wash were two of the soldiers who were undyingly loyal to John. They may not have been with him since the beginning, but they were both as much a part of his inner circle as she was.

"Um . . . stuff . . . ?" Wash shrugged weakly. "Anyway, you gonna tell us where you went? Perry nearly had a hernia looking for you."

"She went to the bunker." Perry said quickly while he shot a fuming glare in Wash's direction.

"You did _what_?!" Reynolds exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch. Anger and surprise dominate his tone. "That's some kind of stupid, Kate!"

Kate ignored Reynolds' comment and walked towards him until they were only inches apart. Even though he towered over her, at that moment it seemed as though their positions were reversed as Kate drew herself up to her full height. "Let. Me. Through." She said slowly. She could be more than threatening when she wanted to be, it wasn't hard to appear as something she wasn't. This life seemed to develop the skill regardless of whether it was practiced.

Reynolds met her glare evenly for a few seconds, but soon sighed wistfully and stepped aside.

Kate's eyes remained on Reynolds before she grasped the door handle to Connor's bedroom and barged inside. She froze in place, nearly walking into a pretty, brown-eyed girl just standing inside the entrance, watching her unblinkingly. Kate frowned; she hadn't expected to run into her, not _inside_ these particular rooms. What the hell was John thinking?

"John's busy." The girl said emotionlessly, placing her hands in the deep pockets of her clothes. She wasn't wearing the uniform of a soldier; her clothing looked more like the white shirt and navy blue overalls the mechanic's wore than anything else. If her overalls were done up completely, instead of just hanging around her waist, Kate would have sworn she was just that – a mechanic. "He must not be disturbed."

Kate frowned and looked back at Reynolds, who only shook his head.

"I need to see him." Kate said, but the girl made no attempt to stand aside or even move from her spot.

"John's busy." The girl repeated.

"I'm his second." Kate exclaimed angrily. Frustration was beginning to build up again in her body and suddenly she wasn't nearly so exhausted. "He can find the time to see me."

The girl just stared at her.

"It's okay," a wearied voice sounded from inside the bedroom. "Let her through."

The girl remained still for a moment before stepping aside. Her eyes remained trained on Kate however. Kate met her stare impassively, but she couldn't help feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable at the girl's blank gaze.

Kate tore her eyes away from the girl's face and stared around John Connor's bedroom. It had been so long since she had even stepped foot inside this room. It was stark, only a narrow bed, complete with sheets and covers lay against the far wall and a few select chairs were positioned by a small desk. She supposed that by today's standards, this place would have been fit for a king. Beds were a rarity, not even the infirmary had enough to go around. John didn't want it when it was first given to him back when Home Plate was established, but the other soldiers wouldn't hear otherwise, so John had grudgingly accepted.

John was sitting in one of the chairs, writing notes down on a scrap of paper with a stub of pencil. He looked up as she came in, but didn't say anything to her; instead he turned to the girl and spoke quickly, "Get an update from Bishop. Find out how things are coming along."

Kate stared at Cameron as she turned and strode out of the bedroom. Each and every step she took was even and methodical. It was how a machine walked.

"Why was it here—?" Kate began, gesturing at the girl's retreating back.

"Don't start." John's eyes seemed to burn for a moment, as if challenging her to say something else about it. He looked tired, more exhausted than Kate had ever seen him before. "Cameron's here because I want her here."

'_Cameron?'_ Kate couldn't keep the incredulous look off her face as John's words seemed to hang tauntingly in the air. He gave that _thing_ a_ name?! _She was about to open her mouth and correct John but the dangerous glint in his eyes convinced her that this was not the best time to challenge him. She decided it was better just to keep her mouth shut.

John stared at her for a moment, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Where were you, Kate?" he asked. "Reynolds and Perry have been wondering, and I get the feeling that you've got something to tell me." He smiled laughingly and an amused glint appeared in his eyes. At least he didn't seem like he was gonna shoot her.

Kate sucked in a deep breath and tried to repress the swarm of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. This was it, no going back now. "I didn't listen to you." She began slowly, watching the amusement leave John's eyes as the words left her mouth. "I went to the bunker."

John's smile all but vanished and an angry scowl took root. "You did what? What the hell were—?"

"You know why I did it." Kate cut across him. She at least wanted to explain herself fully before John reprimanded her. She was in the wrong, she knew. She had no ground; no leverage. "The machines had sacked the place, killed everyone inside. We went in to look around. Skynet left a sleeper – A T-1000. It attacked us. Walker was stabbed, badly. I don't know if he'll make it through. Jesse has a broken arm, and . . . and the T-1000 took Private Casey when he left. It _took_ him, John."

John frowned and puzzlement spread over his features. "What do you mean it took him? Was he alive, or . . .?"

"I mean it knocked him out-cold, picked him up and carried him out of the bunker over its shoulder. Since when do machines do that John? It deliberately took Private Casey; it couldn't care less about us. It could have killed all of us in the bunker, but it didn't!"

John tapped his stub of pencil against the desk and ran his hand through his hair again. He had that look on his face. The look he always got when he was given news that was unexpected or surprising. Wash had come to dub it his 'thinking face'. Each second seemed to creep by agonisingly slow before John looked up at her again. His eyes were hard.

"You're my second . . ." John said tightly. "But that doesn't make you exempt. You disobeyed a direct order and got two of _my_ soldiers injured and let another get captured. I'm not worried about Walker. No matter how badly he gets injured, that bastard is just like his brother; he'll pull through. But what happened to Private Casey is another matter. You've never been captured by the machines, Kate. You have no idea what it's like."

Kate winced and closed her eyes. It was her fault; she had no reservations about that fact.

"I'm suspending you. You don't leave Home Plate and I don't want to see you anywhere near here, understand me?"

"You're suspending me?" Kate blurted out incredulously. "As you said, I'm your _second_! I've been with you since the beginning, John Connor. I know I screwed up, okay, I understand that. But you need me here!"

John stiffened angrily at the use of his full-name and his scowl returned in full force. "I don't wanna hear this, Brewster. I gave you an order! Now get out of my sight!"

Kate's lips curled in unrestrained anger. Still glaring daggers, she straightened her body and saluted John just as respectfully any one of his soldier's would do. It was a low blow, she knew it, but right at that moment she didn't care. John never demanded that his own generals salute him, and he absolutely hated it when his friends did. "General Connor." She said in a tight voice before spinning around and striding back out towards the War Room.

She froze quickly when she saw Cameron, just standing inside the doorway, watching. "The mechanic says that patience is a virtue." Cameron announced, looking at John as she walking inside. "He looked frustrated. He doesn't know how to fix it."

Kate glared at Cameron as she strode passed her and back into the War Room. Reynolds, Wash and Perry looked at her as she stormed by, but she managed to ignore their pitied stares.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard the door to John's private room creak shut. Cameron was staring at her as she closed the door. Kate swallowed and once again she felt an uncomfortable tingle run down her spine.

* * *

-

* * *

A/N: So here's the latest chapter. As I've probably said somewhere before, events that take place in the future always interest me, and because of The Sarah Connor Chronicles particularly dark future, it's always interesting to go there from time-to-time. The future chapters do tie into the present in a big way, I didn't just decide to write them willy-nilly, there is a reason for them which will become apparent in later chapters. Actually I think I've already given it away in some places.

It's back to the present next chapter, for those who might be wondering. I hope you all had a great start to the New Year!


	8. Chapter 8: Safety

Sarah's eyes were hard as she watched Cameron drop the terminator's body carelessly on the kitchen table. They had really done a number on it. It was a messy job, taking out its chip and this time Cameron hadn't even appeared to use her careful robotic precision. _It looks more like something John would have done._ Sarah thought grimly.

The ride home had been over quickly, she wasn't sure how many road-rules she had broken, but she was certain the speed limit had been on more than one occasion. As soon as John had called her to say that he and Cameron had been attacked, she had sprinted out of the house with her heart thundering in her chest. The pain in her side hadn't mattered; she was so completely focused on getting to John.

And then to add insult to injury, John had refused to explain what happened until they reached home. She had been about to yell at him for that comment, but the fierce look in his eyes had caused her to keep her mouth shut. _Should never have let him leave the house today_, she thought, _not with that thing still out there._

"Was this the T-888 who attacked you and Derek at McClane's residence?" Cameron asked as she straightened her back and stared at Sarah.

_God, I can't stand it when she stares._ "Yes, looks like it." Sarah said as she looked back down at the decommissioned terminator. She could feel John's eyes on her now, accusing her.

"It is." Derek confirmed from his position near the kitchen door. "It's kind of hard to forget something that picks you up and nearly strangles you to death."

Sarah glanced up at him. He looked completely relaxed, but his crossed arms and the way he stared at the fallen terminator was enough to tell her that he was in no way less alert. _He wouldn't be either. He doesn't relax, he's not like that._ On normal days Sarah could sometimes forget that Derek came from the future, but days like this just seemed to reaffirm the fact that he did not belong here. _Since when do we have normal days anyway?_

"What happened last night?" John stared at her. On the outside his face was calm, almost stone-faced, but his eyes gave everything away. They were burning.

"It's not important now." Sarah said. _I can't keep secrets; I can't keep them from him_.

"Like hell its not." John exclaimed angrily. "You go to McClane's house and then you come back in the middle of the night hurt and with tight-lips. I know this thing attacked you there, but there's something else you're not telling me. What is it?" He stared at her for a moment before turning to his uncle for support.

"He's gonna find out sooner or later." Derek shrugged his shoulders. "The _machine_ will tell him if you don't."

_I can't keep him in the dark__, _Sarah thought grimly as she sucked in a deep breath and said, "McClane was bait. Bait for you."

John was silent for a moment and the fire in his eyes died, sudden realisation taking its place. ". . . Bait." He repeated slowly. "McClane was killed so the T-888 could get to me. It thought I'd come running."

It wasn't a question, but Sarah found herself nodding anyway. "Yes."

"What I'd like to know is how'd it track the two of you down." Derek said bluntly. "There's no way it could know where you were, John. It killed McClane so _you'd_ go to _it_. Next thing we know, it attacks you in the park. What happened?"

Sarah frowned when John glanced at Cameron. _It's almost like he's looking for support._

"It wasn't looking for us." Cameron was the one who answered. "The T-888 has a list of targets. It was hunting when it found us . . . moving through the list."

"It's over now." Sarah looked back down at the T-888 with hardened eyes. Its artificial skin was a mess, the consequence of several bullets and a rough-and-tumble with Cameron. Her eyes came to rest on the large gap near the centre of the T-888's head – the place where its chip used to be. "Where's the chip?" she asked, holding out her hand and looking at John and Cameron expectantly.

Her eyes narrowed as Cameron moved her hand, reaching deep into her pocket and pulling out the T-888's chip. "It is very possible that there is valuable information on this chip," Cameron said, making no effort to hand the chip over to Sarah. "Names, dates; a target list."

"Is it just me, or does anyone else remember what happened last time we tried to see what was on one of those things?" Derek said pointedly, moving away from his position by the door to stand by the table.

"What happened with Vick's chip will not happen again." Cameron looked up at Derek and Sarah noticed her hand closed over the chip, like she was protecting it. "We do not need to access visual memory; only the information this T-888 has obtained since it was sent back. It will not become aware. It's just like reading a book."

_Not so simple, girlie._ Sarah thought, and it seemed Derek shared her exact same notion.

"Except this _book_ can screw us all over if we make a mistake!" Derek insisted. "We can't risk it."

"You said McClane knew John before Judgment Day." Sarah kept her eyes trained on Derek, ignoring John's startled croak and widened eyes. _I'm sorry, John. _"That means that the names and records on that chip are specific targets. Skynet's not just looking to kill John; it wants to stop the very foundation of the resistance from being formed. These people all help John in some way. Even though we stopped this terminator, they're still targets. We need their names, Derek . . . unless you know their names too?"

Derek met her gaze briefly before shaking his head. _At least he understands. He's not stupid, he just . . . I don't know what he is._

"John didn't build the resistance alone." Cameron added. "If Skynet takes out enough of the resistance fighters who helped him, it's possible that the resistance may never be formed."

Sarah nodded and looked back down at the T-888. "I want this thing to be dust before it gets dark. We can talk about what to do later – once we get more information."

"I'll prepare the thermite." Cameron said as she reached down and picked up the T-888, propping it over her shoulder like it weighed less then a feather. The chip had disappeared back inside her pocket, but Sarah could still see shallow lump where the chip bulged against the jacket's leather.

Sarah nodded and backed away from the table as Cameron swung around and walked towards the kitchen door. To her surprise, Derek turned and followed Cameron outside, slamming the door shut behind him. _What the hell is he doing?_ She wondered as she stared at the closed door.

"I'm gonna take a shower." John said quietly as he left the table and strode quickly out of the kitchen.

Sarah turned around and watched her son leave. _What's going through his head? He can't keep things bottled up._ She walked quickly after him, crossing the kitchen and emerging into the lounge-room. John was almost at the stairs.

She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the sharp pain in her side, "John, wait a minute!"

* * *

Cameron was walking steadily across the gravel driveway towards the garage when Derek finally caught up with her. _Why does she have to walk so fast, it's not like she's in a rush._ "Hey!" he called. _Don't say her name! She's a metal, she shouldn't have a name._ Cameron didn't slow her pace, or even give him any indication that she had heard him. _God, I can't believe I'm doing this. _"Cameron!"

Cameron turned and stared at him expressionlessly, the T-888's body coming dangerously close to hitting him across his head. She didn't slow her pace. "What do you want?"

"What's the hurry?" he asked, graciously ignoring the fact that she nearly knocked him to the ground with that big hunk of scrap. _She's not human. _

Cameron looked at him, tilting her head in that same annoying manner and saying, "Sarah said she wanted the T-888 to be dust before it gets dark. The sun is due to set in approximately one hour's time. It will take longer than that to properly prepare this endoskeleton for cremation. I must remove the synthetic tissue so the thermite doesn't create a repulsive sent that may attract the neighbours attention, and I must properly set the concrete blocks so the garage will not catch alight and burn down. I have much to do."

_There's always a reason. Never just 'cause. _"You don't have to strip the skin. The wind's blowing away from the houses. No one's gonna smell it."

"The wind shifts." Cameron replied, looking up at the sky. "It always shifts. It's unpredictable."

_It's not the only thing._ Derek thought savagely before repeating in an impassive tone, "It's not the only thing."

Cameron looked back at him. ". . . No, it's not."

Derek followed her through the garage door, glancing around habitually as he stepped inside. Barely used tools and equipment hung off nails and racks, left behind by whoever had lived here beforehand. A large pile of concrete blocks and a few bags of sand lay in one of the corners, he had collected them back when they moved here, but they hadn't had a use for them before now. Usually the truck would have been in here around this time, but Sarah had left it parked crookedly, half on the grass, half on the gravel driveway when she arrived back from collecting John. _Then when she came back . . . telling me to stop staring and move my ass, didn't even bother explaining what happened._

He stopped just inside the entrance and watched as Cameron dumped the T-888's body on the ground and picked up a serrated knife from one of the side tables. She thumbed the edge briefly before replacing it and turning to pick up one of the concrete blocks. _She's a machine,_ he thought as he watched Cameron lay the block on a perfect right angle and pick up another. _No matter how she acts, or what she looks like, she's still one of them! The enemy!_

Block after block after block was positioned in silence by Cameron as Derek just stood there and watched. _Don't trust her—can't. She's lied before, kept things hidden, what's going to stop her from doing it again?_

"You have been watching for fifteen minutes now." Cameron suddenly said as she placed the last concrete block firmly in place. "You're thinking. Girl's at school say that when boys think and they have the look on your face that you do now, it's called brooding. It's sexy."

Derek felt his eyebrows rise. _What the hell did she just say?_ "What the hell did you just say?" he spluttered.

"It's sexy. That's what the girl's at school say." Cameron looked up from her work and stared at him. "Brooding is sexy."

"You actually talk to people other than John?" Derek raised his eyebrow. _Damn it; can't let her get to me like that. Caught me off guard._

"No. I hear them in the bathroom."

"Of course you do." Derek scoffed as he watched Cameron pick up one of the bags of sand and pour it evenly into the concrete bed. _Gotta say it now._ "I want the chip. Give it to me."

Cameron carelessly tossed the now empty bag aside and stared at him again. Her eyebrows were lowered and a glint in her eyes appeared that never should have been there in the first place. "Why do you want it?"

_It's like she's glaring._ Derek thought before saying, "Because I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

The glare continued as Cameron blandly pointed out, "You can't throw me."

"That's exactly my point."

Cameron didn't make a move to take the chip out of her pocket; instead she picked up another bag of sand and poured it after the first. "Why do you hate me?" she asked.

As soon as the words left her mouth it was like a switch had been pulled in Derek's mind. _She doesn't know?_ His mind shrieked furiously._ She doesn't know! She's metal! She . . . she's asking me that? Why . . . how can she not know?!_ He strode forward, an angry scowl plastered over his face. "Give me the chip." He demanded tightly.

Cameron ignored him for a moment as she poured the last bag of sand and dumped the T-888's body in the exact centre of construction.

"You know why I hate you." He said after a moment. _If she wants to play this game . . . ._

"You hate what I am. But why do you hate who I am?"

_Who she is? She's just like every other metal!_ "You're all the same. All you know is death and killing. You have no idea what it's like. Now give me the chip!"

Cameron looked at him as she reached into her pocket and placed the chip into his outstretched hand. "I'm not like the others." She said, walking towards the bench where she left the serrated knife. "I'm just like you."

_No she's not. She has no idea!_ Derek clenched the chip tightly in his fist and strode away, but he could still feel Cameron's eyes burning into his back.

* * *

"John, wait a minute!"

John's foot came to rest on the very first step and he winced as his mother's voice rang through his ear. _No, I don't want to talk._ He thought numbly. _You always know when I'm lying. I don't wanna lie._ He turned around, lifting his foot off of the step and back onto the carpet.

"Is everything okay, John?" Sarah asked, coming to a stop just behind one of the living room sofas. "You've been quiet lately. What's wrong?"

_No, nothing's 'okay'! A man was killed because of me and I couldn't do anything to stop it! Who knows how many other people were killed before we finally caught on? How many more people have to die?! I know you've thought about this before, Mom. Nothing's okay and everything's wrong! _"I'm fine, Mom." John managed a weak smile. "It's just been a long day."

"You know you can come to me, don't you?" Sarah's hand began to knead the corner of the sofa as she spoke. "It doesn't matter what it is, you can talk to me."

"Yeah, I know." _I need to learn to deal with things by myself. I can't keep relying on you to protect me. You can't be everywhere at once. The closer it gets, they're gonna come at me harder and harder. I don't want you to die._

An awkward silence passed between the two, Sarah's hand still squeezed the couch, while John's hand fidgeted across the staircase banister. The silence grew so tense, John was sure if it stayed like that for much longer they'd both end up suffocating. _Fitting way for the future leader of mankind to die, _he thought derisively. ". . . Why wouldn't you tell me what happened last night at McClane's house?" he asked, sucking in a deep breath. _It's done now, out in the open._

"I didn't want you to worry. You've got a lot on your mind, I see that. I didn't want to add to it."

John couldn't stop the humourless chuckle that burst unrestrained from his mouth. He cut it off quickly and noted the sharp look that was now decorating his mother's face. "No offence, Mom, but keeping that from me was just about the worse thing you could have done." Sarah frowned and he continued quickly, "All day I was driving myself crazy trying to think what happened. Parents always keep things from their kids because they think they're keeping us safe. But we still know something's wrong, no matter what they say."

Sarah smiled ruefully and said, "I'll remember that next time. But I'm serious. If you ever need to talk, about the war, about school . . . about Cameron, anything; you can come to me."

_About Cameron?_ "What about Cameron?" John asked sharply.

"You've been talking with her more and more. Confiding in her." No matter how calm and tactful Sarah sounded, John could still hear the disapproval in her voice. Just the fact that Sarah was trying to be tactful was enough to send alarm bells ringing inside John's head. "Sometimes it can be hard to remember; hell, even I sometimes forget that she's a terminator."

_No, you don't. You never forget, how could you? _"If you're trying to ask me what I think you're asking, you don't have to worry. I don't have feelings for Cameron. I know what she is."

Sarah was silent for a moment. ". . . I'm trying to open with you, John. I know something is happening between the two of you. There's something you're not telling me. I want you to trust me."

John looked away and tried not to wince. _Damn it, I knew I couldn't lie. I can't tell her about school, I can deal with that on my own. But I've got to give her something or this won't go away. _"Nothing's happening between me and Cameron, not what you're thinking anyway . . . when the T-888 attacked us; it had her on the ground, bending her spine. I pushed it off of her. I know it was stupid, but it's over know, it's done. I just saw it breaking her and I acted."

"You should have run!" Sarah's voice was filled with anger now, but John hadn't expected anything less. "It's her job to protect you. You shouldn't have got involved!"

'That's not all." John interrupted. "When the terminator attacked us, it didn't go after me."

Sarah's frown deepened. ". . . What are you talking about? Of course it was after you."

"No, it didn't." John shook his head. "It went straight for Cameron. It couldn't have cared less about me. It only seemed to notice me when I pushed it off of her."

"Cameron is on the target list." Sarah said suddenly, her voice filling with realisation. "Skynet wants her dead . . . we need to see what's on that chip."

John nodded. Already he could feel the hard pit in his stomach become easier to bear. _Maybe the truth really does set you free._ He thought ironically. "We need another external port for the chip. Cameron and I didn't get one back when we moved here after the fire. I'll pick one up tomorrow."

Sarah shook her head. "No, I'll do it." She must have immediately picked up on his dubious stare when she smiled and said, "I'm sure you can write it down for me."

John chuckled and thought, _At least she can still joke about things like this._

"Finally a real laugh," Sarah said. "Go have your shower. Dinner's in an hour. And don't think that we're finished talking about risking yourself to save Cameron."

John smiled his own rueful grin and placed his foot back on the first step.

"John."

He looked back at Sarah. The grin was gone from her face and was replaced by a look of concern.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

_Yes! Oh, God, yes!_ His mind screamed. _Someone's trying to torment Cameron at school. And . . . and I'm not even sure if this is even a prank. I think someone knows what Cameron is._ "No." John smiled and shook his head. "That's everything."

He watched Sarah smile again and walk back into the question. The smile faded from his face as he continued his way up the stairs. The hollow in his stomach refused to go away, it should have been better, but John would swear that it had just gotten worse.

* * *

Cameron remained still by the window of her plain bedroom. It was a simple room, functional, she supposed. Her odd collection of clothing items hung neatly and orderly inside the small wardrobe, while the rest of her collection lay tucked away inside the narrow chest of drawers pressed against the side of the room. The bed remained untouched, immaculately made, even though she never slept in it. She never slept at all.

The T-888 was dust; all except for its chip, which was now hidden away inside one of Derek Reese's striped socks. His only odd one out; Sarah Connor had lost the other one when she tried to do the laundry one week and two days ago. Derek Reese had warned her that he would shoot her if she ever went through his meagre possessions again. So this time she didn't tell him.

In another half-an-hour, when the moon was at its apex, she would begin her nightly routine of patrolling the house.

Footsteps still passed by her door occasionally, though they had become much less frequent in the past hour. Only Derek Reese and John were still awake. Sarah Connor had retired to her bed. She was still sore and tired after being attacked and getting back in the early hours of the morning. She was the only human in this house who practiced proper sleeping habits.

She turned her head and stared at the door to her room as a pair of footsteps stopped outside. John entered slowly, staring at her as he closed the door until only a narrow crack remained. He was dressed for sleeping, but his hair did not show any disturbance from his pillows. He had not yet gone to bed.

John sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at her before saying, ". . . I told Mom that the T-888 attacked you, not me."

A statement, sharing factual information; Cameron complied, "I told Derek Reese that brooding was sexy."

John's face wore a perplexed expression. "Why did you tell him that?"

"Because he was thinking for a long time and did not saying anything."

John chuckled and fell backwards until he was spread like an eagle on top of her bed. It was an inefficient method of relaxation, though she had been told that it was still effective. She did not understand. It would not help his posture.

"Mom said that McClane was bait—the T-888 killed him so I would come looking for revenge."

"Revenge is a powerful motivator." Cameron nodded in agreement. "It is born of rage and hurt. Few things are more motivating than rage and hurt."

"Like what?" John turned his head to look at her.

"Love," Cameron told him simply.

John only stared at her for a moment, as if deciding if she meant anything other than what she said, but then nodded and replied, "Yeah, love does blow the others out of the water . . ." He was silent again, breathing in deeply as he prepared to speak. "The T-888 came after you. You were a target. Skynet knows you came back in time. Was what Mom said true? Are all of these people being killed so I'll come looking for the thing that killed them? Are these people . . . are _you_ meant to be bait?"

"I don't know. The T-888's objectives are unclear."

"Well we don't have to worry about these people being killed anymore, do we? You stopped the T-888 . . . you bent its back and it tried to do the same thing to you."

Cameron nodded. "Yes, it is a weakness shared by all terminators not built with mimetic poly-alloy. Extreme pressure can initiate a shutdown to avoid unnecessary damage to our power-cells. It's an effective method of combat."

John sat up, leaving creases and ripples on her duvet cover. "It's late. I'm gonna go to bed. I just wanted . . . I dunno what I wanted. Just to talk, I guess . . ." he finished lamely.

"It's Thursday tomorrow. Are we still going to school?"

The corners of John's lips rose. "Yeah, Mom doesn't have a problem with it, but if that T-888 was still out there, there'd be no way she'd even let me out of the house."

"She wants to protect you. It's what mother's do."

"Her and everybody else," John sighed and stood up, crossing the room and opening the door wide. "Night, Cam. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, John." She watched him leave before turning back to the window and looking up at the moon.

* * *

-

* * *

A/N: So here's Chapter Eight. I tried a different style when writing this chapter; I hope it worked out well enough. I liked this chapter; it's probably one of my favourites so far, as well as the longest. The family dynamic in the series is very important thematically and I've always found it interesting to watch, so I thought I'd give it a go. It was fun to write, I enjoyed it.


	9. Chapter 9: Thursdays

"Can anyone tell me the difference between assonance and alliteration? Does anyone want to put themselves out there?"

John sighed and stared blankly out of the English classroom's line of open windows. Sunlight poured into the classroom, the stuffy heat making John regret he hadn't worn a thinner shirt today; as it was his usual long-sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He placed his chin in his palm and slumped further down into his chair. He guessed that most of the class—himself included—would rather be outside, enjoying the sun while it lasted, rather than sweating inside this classroom listening to Mr. Roberts drone on about English language techniques.

_It's not as if any of this actually matters._ John found himself thinking cynically. _It's 2008; another three years and none of this will matter._ A sideways glance around the classroom told him that most of his peers probably shared his sentiments—although it was more of a short term thought for them. He could practically hear the rapidly growing tension and excitement. It reminded him of the last day of school for the year . . . back when he actually completed a full year.

If he were a _normal_ student, a normal teenager, John supposed he would have relaxed and just enjoyed school while it lasted. Cameron had only found a few pictures tacked to her locker this morning, and they looked like the drawers had barely put any effort into them. They weren't getting the reaction from Cameron that they wanted. Maybe they wanted to see her storm off in tears? John smirked slightly; _big chance of that ever happening._

His eyes passed over a few of the similar blank-faced students before finally coming to rest on Walker. He leaning forward over his desk and was scribbling in his English book with a pencil. He wasn't the only one drawing in his book, but he was by-far taking it the most serious. Mr. Roberts hadn't said anything when Walker had shown up late, _again_. There had only been a look of silent disapproval which everyone had been able to glean the meaning of.

"Come on, people." Mr. Roberts sounded resigned now. "This isn't even a hard one. Don't make me pick one of you, because believe me when I say that you do _not_ want that to happen."

John only sighed and looked at the desk to his right, immediately taking in Cameron's slumped form lounging on her chair. She had been working on her slouch, a position she had previously noted that human's took when bored. _She knows why we do it, but not really,_ John thought. _It's an unconscious for us. We just do it._

His eyes drifted down to Cameron's English book, taking in the pages filled with perfect, flourished handwriting. From what John could read of it, it looked like Cameron had written down the exact definitions of assonance and alliteration as well as the difference between them.

_Can't change what she is_, John sighed and looked back up as Mr. Roberts began speaking again.

"Well, I can safely assume that Mr. Walker doesn't know the difference. He won't need to know these things forty years from now when he's _still_ cleaning up the school."

A series of amused chuckles and giggles sounded as Walker stopped tilting on his chair and scowled at Mr. Roberts – even John laughed along with the rest of the class. Only Cameron and Walker didn't participate in the class's amusement. John felt his grin slip when he looked at Cameron; she was staring at each laughing student before turning to him as though demanding an explanation for the mirth.

He shook his head at her and turned back to his sadly empty notebook page.

"Mr. Baum. You care to enlighten us?"

Deer frozen, staring at the headlights. John didn't know why that particular notion suddenly flooded through his brain, but it was a fitting one. "Umm . . ." he began slowly, straining his head in an attempt to catch a glimpse at Cameron's notebook. "Well . . . assonance is—"

He cut off quickly as the door to the classroom opened quickly and Principal Bartowski poked his semi-bald head through the doorway. The laughter slowly died as the principal's sharp eyes seemed to encompass everyone in a single glance.

"Sorry for the interruption, I'm sure at least a few of you were about to be stood up in front of the entire class," Principal Bartowski said. "But I need to borrow your teacher for a few minutes."

The others didn't even seem to care, John noticed as he watched Mr. Roberts leave the classroom before looking around at his peers. As soon as the door had closed behind the two adults, talking had erupted—a hubbub of voices speaking meaningless words. He heard snatched of Prom plans and after-party plans—typical teenager talk, sometimes it was weird to see how little some things had changed after eight years.

"Pass over your book." John said as he turned to face Cameron and held out his hand.

Cameron stared at him in her usual deadpan way before she handed her book over. Her eyes never left John's face.

"I'm avoiding class embarrassment." John explained quickly as he scrawled a much more simplified version of Cameron's answers down in his own book. _I can't believe I'm actually caring about this._

"I know."

John stopped his pen's furious movements and looked up at Cameron, startled. "You know?"

She nodded. "Yes. You don't want to be laughed at. Laughter draws attention. It is common for teenagers to avoid attention at all costs."

"Well it's good to know I fall into the bell-curve." John retorted as he resumed copying and modifying Cameron's exact notes.

"Right in the middle," Cameron continued helpfully. At John's sudden stare, she continued. "But you'll grow out of it and you won't even think about it. They won't laugh at you—or only your friends will laugh at you." She corrected herself with a small smile.

John frowned as his eyes moved down to look at Cameron's mouth—more specifically her curved lips and soft dimples. It looked so real, but deep down he knew it wasn't, no matter how much he wished otherwise. _Before yesterday I probably wouldn't have even noticed it._ His conversation with his mother ran through his mind, nagging at him until he looked away from that smile.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," John replied as he finished scrawling the last of the notes into his book. He picked up Cameron's book and handed it back to her. "I'm fine."

Cameron set the book back down on her desk and folded her arms under her breasts. The corners of John's lips quirked. Her slouch looked more sulky than bored.

He looked up sharply as the door to the classroom suddenly reopened and Mr. Roberts walked back in. The look on his face was enough to make John straighten in his chair. He had never seen Mr. Roberts look truly concerned before—angry, yes; irritated at the state of today's youth, yes. But never concerned.

"Alright, settle down." Mr. Roberts said after a moment. He didn't have to raise his voice, though John wasn't surprised by that. He suspected the rest of the class was just as curious as he was.

"I know you've all seen about the graffiti—I know that some of you have been affected by it, just like I know that some of you were the ones who sprayed it."

John glanced back around the classroom. _And I thought the air in here was bad before._ The only person John knew of who had spray-painted the school was Walker. He had no idea who else could have been involved.

"We have already experienced a tragedy due to this and the school board wants this business to stop before there is another one. The board is conducting an official investigation, and they expect your full co-operation in the upcoming days. If not, then chances are there won't be a prom this year."

The class remained silent, but John could almost hear blood boiling.

"You brought this on yourselves. Prom is a privilege, and we will _not_ hesitate to take it away." Mr. Roberts sighed, and his eyes seemed to encompass every student in a single glance. "Principal Bartowski and Mr. Harrison want to talk with everyone affected by the graffiti before the investigation takes place, so the Baum twins, Weston, Walker and Scott, will you please pack up your things and make your way to Principal Bartowski's office—you won't be coming back here."

John's brow furrowed as he flipped his book shut and bent over to pick up his bag. Around him, the other student's whose names were called mimicked his actions, though the expressions on their faces were as different as their appearances. Walker looked pissed, it was the only word that came to mind when he saw Walker's scowl. Cheri Weston collected her things quickly, standing hunched as though she wanted to disappear into thin air. Georgia Scott—he had heard some other guys call her the class goth once. She certainly fit the label. John didn't think he had ever heard her speak—she was staring around emotionlessly, her face completely deadpan.

And then there was Cameron. She was packing her things into her bag slowly and methodically, just like he had seen her do dozens of times before. John slung his bag over his shoulder and zigzagged his way through the rows of desks. Walker and Cheri had already left the classroom, but Georgia was slowly packing her things away from her seat at the back of the classroom.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" John asked over his shoulder as he left the classroom and began to move down the hallway.

Cameron increased her pace until she was walking by his side. "I don't know."

John nodded and the corners of his lips rose ever so slightly. "Hope Mom and Derek are having a better time than we are."

* * *

"That's not it." Derek said, pointing at the small box Sarah had just selected from one of _Computer Central's_ shelves.

Sarah scowled and turned to face him. He was standing by one of the revolving racks of batteries that were at the end of each isle in this place. It had taken her the better part on an hour to look through the various shelves full of computer equipment until she found what she was looking for.

"It's the right one. John wrote it down." Sarah frowned at the box and pulled out the scrap of paper filled with John's nearly illegible handwriting. She nodded in satisfaction and said, "All you've done is complain ever since we got here, Derek. You didn't have to come."

Derek snorted and spun the revolving battery rack with the tips of his fingers. "What else was I gonna do? You stood over me and scowled until I said yes."

"I wasn't scowling. I asked."

"Not much of a difference."

"I wouldn't have bothered if I knew you were going to act like this—will you stop spinning that?" Derek stopped spinning the rack and looked at her with his left eyebrow raised. Behind him, Sarah saw a middle-aged woman give her a sympathetic look. _Probably thinks the two of us are married._ The thought streaked through Sarah's mind before she even realised what it was.

"What?" Derek asked after a moment, and Sarah suddenly realised she had been staring at him.

"Are you done sulking?" She said without missing a beat.

"I'm not sulking, I'm just saying—this isn't exactly what I'm best at." He jerked his head towards the lines of computer displays flashing near the centre of the store. "I'd rather be pulling these things apart, not picking them out."

"I know, you told me in the car." Sarah tucked the box under her arm and started towards the checkout counter. "We're almost done, then we can go back and you can do what you normally do on a Thursday afternoon. . . . What do you do anyway? You hadn't been spending much time at the house before this started."

She looked over her shoulder and saw Derek shrug as he followed her.

"I go to the park, most days. Check storage, look for leads."

"And that's it?"

"What else is there?" Derek looked at her with an incredibly guarded expression on his face. "Why? What do you do while you're stuck at home and John's at school."

Sarah shrugged her shoulders before realising she had done exactly what Derek had done when he answered her. "I work out. I clean." She placed a particular emphasis on the word "clean". She didn't wash the floors or windows; that wasn't her type of cleaning. She checked the guns, she took them apart and made sure they were all still working.

Derek nodded and said with a strange note of something in his voice, "Yeah, you're a regular Martha Stewart."

Sarah glanced at him occasionally as she paid for John's computer part—what was it called?—and thanked the pale checkout girl with a small smile. "So that's all you do?" Sarah asked Derek as they left the store. "I thought you'd met a girl."

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Derek stiffen and look at her sharply. "If I had, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"So that's a yes?"

"It's not a 'no'." Derek said shortly, like he was trying to recover some of his composure after Sarah's question. "I'm not John. You should be talking to _him_ about this."

It was Sarah's turn to stiffen. She didn't want parenting advice from a man who was probably more likely to throw a box of condoms at John and tell him to have fun while he still had the chance. "John knows." Was all Sarah said. It was all she needed to say.

"I'm sure he does." Derek's shield was back up now, stronger than ever. His jaw was set and he stared at her with this a determined glint in his eyes. She had seen that look before. It was a Reese boy's exclusive.

She scowled at him before looking away and concentrating on picking her way through the throngs of people walking around the mall. Her shields were up too, and she liked it that way.

* * *

John Connor was leaning with his back flat against the wall. His eyes were slightly closed. He looked like none of this even concerned him, but Cameron could see the way his eyes flickered as he looked at the other teenagers that were waiting in the Principal's foyer along with him.

What the school was doing was either very wise or very stupid. One of the most important rules of interrogation was to keep the suspects separate. When they were together, they tended to pool their strength together, making them increasingly difficult to break. But sometimes the opposite could be true. Cameron had seen two traitors to the future resistance break down and accuse each other, both accidentally revealing secrets the resistance hadn't known before. Those traitors were dead now, and the resistance had put a stop to one of Skynet's closely guarded plans.

But somehow, Cameron didn't think the school was that smart.

Cheri Weston was standing quietly in one of the corners. Her head was down and she refused to speak. John had tried to coax her into saying something when they first arrived, but she still hadn't said anything. John had eventually given up.

Walker and the pale girl wearing too much black makeup were sitting with their backs to the wall on opposite sides of the foyer. Walker had his English book out again and was continuing the drawing he had spent most of English working on. Georgia Scott was simply glaring at him. Walker appeared not to notice.

Approximately ten minutes after they arrived, three more students had arrived in the foyer, not at the same time though. A scared looking freshman had come first; he had immediately tried to shrink away. Cameron had detected perspiration beading on the boy's temples. He was guilty of something, but Cameron dismissed him. She didn't think he had anything to do with this.

Almost immediately after the freshman tiptoed in, another teenager from junior year walked in and immediately sat next to Walker. Cameron assumed they were friends. He looked at whatever Walker was drawing and snorted with amusement. Cameron noticed that Georgia Scott stiffened at the laugh and redirected her glare to encompass both Walker and the newcomer.

The last person to arrive came a little bit later. Cameron recognised her as the captain of the cheerleading squad. She looked at each of them frostily before sitting down and crossing her legs on one of the few chairs. Cameron had heard some male students describe Carrie Bell as 'hotcakes'.

"Okay, what are you staring at?" Cameron looked at Walker sharply. He wasn't looking at her, but at Georgia Scott on the other side of the room. "You look like your gonna put a hex on me or something."

Georgia Scott didn't reply, but Cameron detected a small tinge of red appear on her cheeks.

"Knock it off, alright. Stop being such a dick." To everyone's surprise, it was the freshman who came to Georgia Scott's defence. Cameron only tilted her and looked at Walker, who was looking at the freshman in surprise.

"I'm not being a dick." Walker finally said, he sounded more than a little but put out. "She looks like she wants to cut off my tenders and hang them on her wall!" He flipped his book shut and waved his finger at Georgia accusingly.

"Dude, you just got told by a _freshman!_" Walker's friend sniggered. Cameron looked at him and then back around at the others. The freshman looked astonished, like he was surprised that he had even said anything. Georgia Scott was leaning forward slightly and was staring at the freshman. She wasn't glaring, but there was something in her eyes Cameron couldn't identify. Carrie Bell was smiling faintly; even John had the beginnings of a smile on his face.

"I didn't— you're meant to be supportive!" Walker spluttered. "You don't get to come to my sister's thirteenth now, Adam."

"They were the ones that invited me." Adam wore a wide grin on his face, completely contrasting with Walker's peevish scowl. "I've got the invite and everything. I think they like me more than they like you—actually, I know they like me more than they like you."

"That's it, I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day now, you rake!" Walker crossed his arms. "Next time you get VD, don't come running to me."

Cameron turned to John for explanation as the foyer burst into laughter. John didn't notice her look and continued chuckling. She looked back at Walker. He had a rueful smile on his face as he listened to his peers laugh at his comment—at least that's what Cameron thought they were laughing at. With humans she could never tell for certain.

She smiled widely and chuckled briefly. Everyone else was and she didn't want to stand out.

"Good to see you can all laugh about this." Principal Bartowski said over top of the laughter as he entered the foyer. Cameron turned her attention towards him. He did not sound at all amused, and she assumed that the others noticed it too as the laughter died away.

"You all know why you're here to some extent. We'll be calling your parents this afternoon—yes, I know about you, Miss Weston. You're father's contacted us twice this week."

Cheri looked down and tried to shrink further into the corner as everyone turned to look at her.

"I wish this didn't have to happen." Principal Bartowski continued like nothing had happened. "But we have to do everything we can to make sure what happened to Jordon Cowen doesn't happen to anyone else at this school—"

"Sorry I'm late." Principal Bartowski cut off as the school councillor Mr. Harrison walked quickly into the foyer. "I was caught up at the science block. Someone wrote over the back wall this morning."

"What?!" Walker suddenly exclaimed as he stood up quickly, letting his bag and book fall to the ground. "Who the hell— no, what does it say?"

Mr. Harrison turned to Walker and looked at him seriously. He didn't seem surprised by Walker's angry outburst. "It said 'clean this up, bitch'."

Cameron noted that Walker's scowl was a lot more furious than it had been before. He met Mr. Harrison's stare for a few moments before slinking back down to the floor, muttering something about finding out who the bastard was.

"You can get to that later, Mr. Walker," Principal Bartowski said. "You have a free-period before lunch; you can clean it up then."

Cameron thought that Principal Bartowski was trying to reassure Walker then, but it only served to deepen Walker's scowl into an ugly grimace.

"As I was saying, we don't want what happened to Jordon to happen to anyone else, so starting tomorrow; you will all be required to visit Mr. Harrison for a set time until this issue has been resolved."

". . . Well that blows." Adam spoke up after a moment, running a hand through his dark hair. "Why do I have to do it? I haven't even had anything spray-painted about me—I feel a little left out."

"Yeah, me too," Walker added. "You said it yourself, I've done some of the tagging, and you know that. But I thought that painting over the graffiti was my punishment—now I have to spend an hour talking to _him_ as well?"

"You're on a thin line as it is, Mr. Walker," Principal Bartowski said coldly. "You've been cooperative so far, and that's the only reason you haven't been expelled. And as for you, Mr. Slater, you're here because you wrote 'Carrie Bell is a whore' on every mirror in the boy's changing room."

Adam fell silent and glanced guiltily at Carrie. Cameron had learned human idioms and figures-of-speech during one of her sleepless nights. At this moment, Carrie Bell was 'staring daggers' at Adam.

"That was you?" Walker said incredulously to his friend. ". . . Nice. I was wondering who did that. A bit weak for my taste, but—"

"That's enough." Principal Bartowski raised his hand and once again commanded the teenagers' full attention. "Mr. Walker, how about you try thinking before you say anything, and Mr. Slater, yes, it was _very_ weak. You're friends with _Walker_—at least _he_ gets creative."

Both Walker and Adam fell silent, though the former had a wide grin on his face. Maybe he forgot that someone spray-painted the science block?

"So, do you all understand what's going to happen?" Principal Bartowski stared at Walker and Adam for a moment before turning to the other teenagers. "This isn't ideal, and I wish this didn't have to happen. You can go now. Think about what you want to say, because I do expect you all to cooperate with this investigation."

Cameron looked at John as everyone else in the foyer began to move, they had taken the conclusion of Principal Bartowski's sentence as a signal to leave.

"Come on." John jerked his head and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Cameron followed him as he strode quickly out of the foyer. Based on facial expressions and perspiration levels, John was more concerned about the investigation than the other teenagers were.

She had seen the way his jaw was set stiffly, and she recognised the hard glint in his eyes. In this time she had only seen it a few select times, but in the future, there was rarely a day when he didn't look like that.

His mind was set and he wasn't going to give up on this anytime soon.

* * *

-

* * *

A/N: I am so, so sorry about the wait. I really had no idea what to do with this chapter at first. Well, I knew what I wanted to do; I just couldn't really put it into words. I ended up changing the structure of this chapter and pretty much the next two chapters after it. This chapter sets up what I wanted it to, but even so. I hereby consider this the worst chapter so far in this story.

One of the main reasons I decided to change things around was because I felt things were moving too fast. I thought the school arc would conclude in this chapter and chapter 10, but I've extended it to make it seem uncluttered. Also I had some trouble with the development of Walker's character. I began taking him further in his particular direction in this chapter, but hopefully it will be a lot more apparent in the upcoming chapters.

I've also changed the future timeline from 2028, to 2027, if anyone hadn't noticed. I was rewatching the pilot episode, and Cameron said she came from 2027. My bad.

It shouldn't take too long for the next couple of chapters to come up. At the moment I'm aiming for one chapter a week for this story, because I got an idea a couple of days ago that I really want to write before the series starts back up and discredits it completely. But I'm already halfway through chapter 10 and I've got most of a scene written for chapter 11 and I'll still be working on this whenever I can.

Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I can barely believe it's been three weeks since my last update.


	10. Chapter 10: The Chip

Sun-warmed grass prickled John's back as he stretched his arms back and rested the back of his head on his palms. Around him the chatters of his schoolmates filled the air with a low buzz. He couldn't catch individual snippets of conversations, and he didn't really want to. He cracked his eyes open and tilted his head until he could see Riley sitting by his feet.

"I'm so screwed." He said hopelessly, immediately causing Riley to direct her gaze towards him and examine him curiously.

"It's not that bad." Riley said as she looked back down at her lap. She was trying to weave daisies into a chain, but so far was remaining unsuccessful. "It's not like you're actually in trouble or anything—and you get free counselling. It could be worse."

"And it'll _get_ worse when the school calls Mom this evening so they can make sure it's okay."

"You haven't told her about this?" Her question made John open his eyes completely and look at her appraisingly. She didn't sound critical, she didn't even sound like she cared all that much.

". . . No, I haven't told her." John replied as he watched Riley finally thread two daisies together.

"That's probably for the best." Riley shrugged and started working on another daisy. "And anyway, you're looking at this whole thing like it's bad. I mean, don't you wanna find out who's been doing this?"

"You know I do."

"So don't worry. What's the worst that could happen, anyway?"

_Cameron getting exposed in front of the whole school, for one. Mom'll pull us out if there's even the smallest chance someone knows. And Skynet probably tracking us down and killing us all._ The list ran through John's head, each thought hitting him as if they had been fired from a gun.

"Besides," Riley grinned widely. "Maybe you'll have time to work through some of your issues while you're sitting in Mr. Harrison's office."

"Oh, yeah," John raised his eyebrows. "What issues would they be?" _Paranoia, trouble trusting. It all comes with being a Connor._

"Well, for starters: you hate the race cars on your wall. Sometimes you've just gotta hug your inner kid. You've been taking this whole graffiti stuff way too seriously. I know I've said it before, but it isn't even about you. Come to think of it, why's the school even bothering with you?"

John furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"The graffiti is about Cameron. Are they doing this with you because you're her brother? Or. . ."

John looked past Riley until his eyes focused on Cameron's slim frame. She was sitting in front of Morris—or rather Morris had come to sit by her. Morris had shown up at school today limping on a pair of crutches. John had overheard him tell Cameron that he'd been in a car accident and broken his leg. He had to have it operated on, and now his jeans were rolled up to his thigh and he was showing Cameron the long surgical scar. Cameron was examining it unblinkingly—almost in a way that suggested gross interest.

"I don't know." John shrugged lightly and turned his attention back to Riley. "I guess so. Maybe they just want to make sure that I don't do that whole, 'overprotective big brother' stuff."

"I'd say she's more overprotective of you." Riley threaded another daisy into her chain.

John glanced back at Cameron and thought, _No kidding._

He suddenly jerked back as Riley beamed at him and tossed her incomplete daisy chain over his head. His sudden movement caused the daisies to come loose from the chain and fall lightly to his lap.

John grinned and picked up a handful of the fallen flowers, preparing to throw them playfully in Riley's hair when a furious shout boomed across the grassy field. John looked up sharply and all but leapt to his feet.

"Walker, you son of a _bitch_!"

John's lifetime of training unconsciously kicked in as he scanned the field, looking for the source of the shout. He could feel Riley's eyes on him, like she was surprised he had acted as fast as he did. He didn't have to look long before a dark-haired boy wearing an ugly scowl on his face stepped into his vision. The boy's name escaped John, but he knew he had seen him a few times before.

He became suddenly aware of the rapid silence that had followed the boy's shout. The clammer of confused voices was gone and it seemed like every pair of eyes were glued to the boy's tall frame.

John's eyes darted over to Walker, who was only just standing up from his seat on the grass. John had seen him when he passed by earlier, but Walker hadn't given any indication he had noticed him. He had been too consumed in an argument with Adam. They had been speaking too softly for John to deduce what was being said.

"You sound a bit angry, Axelrod," Walker smirked. He didn't sound at all quiet now. In fact, despite his calm, almost insulting tone, John could detect traces of the very same anger the other boy was emanating. "I haven't done anything to upset you, have I?"

"What the hell did you do with them, you ass?!" Axelrod's voice shook and his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Everything is gone. What the hell did you do?!"

Walker screwed up his face and scratched his chin. "Have you checked the second floor girl's room? You go there a lot, right? The third stall?" Some of the watching student's laughed lightly, but the other's remained silent. "Next time you decide to mess with _my_ walls, I'll do a lot worse than flush your books."

Axelrod scoffed and began to lean away from Walker. John saw what was coming he noticed Axelrod's weight shift as he spun on his heel and pivoted forward. Axelrod's fist thudded meatily into Walker's jaw, sending his sprawling back.

John resisted the urge to sigh. The punch was sloppy, predictable. John had learnt to expect better.

A few beats passed as Walker regained his balance, spouting swearwords that would have made a sailor blush. He darted forward and he and Axelrod fell to the ground, throwing ineffectual punches and weak kicks. A few guys cheered and moved closer, but aside from them, the others stayed where they were.

John felt a hand grab his shoulder and he glanced around quickly. Cameron was standing beside him, not looking at the fight, but looking at him. John shrugged out of her grasp and shook his head at her._ I've known how to fight since I was a kid. They don't even know what they're doing._

If Cameron had been able to glean any meaning from his face, she didn't give any indication of it. She stepped away and began moving by some of the onlookers, walking in a wide arc around the fight.

John followed her path with his eyes until another shout, this time from a deeper voice carried across the field. Mr. Harrison was sprinting towards Walker and Axelrod. The school counsellor didn't even hesitate before diving into the fray.

"Stop it. Stop, now!" Mr. Harrison shouted as he pulled Axelrod off of Walker. "Adam, do you mind?" he grunted as he was forced to release Axelrod to stop Walker from punching him while he was restrained.

Adam shrugged and grabbed his friend from behind. He was a lot bulkier than Walker and easily pulled him back from Axelrod. Walker's lip was split and bleeding and already his jaw was colouring from where Axelrod had hit him. Blood was dripping freely from Axelrod's nose, but other from that, he looked unharmed, though both boys were panting heavily.

"Principal Bartowski's office. Now!" Mr. Harrison pointed towards the main building and pushed Axelrod forward.

"You too," Mr. Harrison jerked his head and Walker followed Axelrod after a moment, muttering obscenities under his breath. Adam walked beside him with a huge grin plastered across his face.

"Thanks for helping." John heard Walker say sarcastically.

"Getting help in a fight is a little _weak_ for my taste." Adam's grin widened as Walker stared at him in astonishment.

Walker's reply was lost as the other students began to talk again. John ignored what was being said and looked around for Cameron. He didn't have to look long before his eyes fell on Cameron's back. He frowned and started to weave his way towards her. He could hear Riley asking him something and Morris exclaim about what he had missed while he was gone.

_What the hell is she doing? _John thought as he drew closer. Cameron was bending over Walker's abandoned school bag and was rummaging through the contents as though it were hers.

John opened his mouth as he drew alongside her and watched as she pulled out Walker's dog-eared English book. Surprisingly neat writing filled the pages as Cameron began to slowly flick through the book, but suddenly about halfway through the book, the writing stopped and was replaced by page upon page of drawings. Some were perfectly rendered and sketched, while others were only mere doodles.

Cameron flipped over a few more pages until finally coming to a stop on a humorous doodle of an obvious goth-looking girl clutching a piece in her hands. A banner drawn in pen was sketched across the top of the page and the words "Talent Show" were written in goofy block-lettering. _I guess we know why Georgia Scott is being teased,_ John thought.

His eyes drifted over the last few pictures in the book and John drew in a sharp breath. Several sketches of a girl standing in a zombie-like state stared back at him. Big, wide doe eyes stared blankly and sparks erupted from her ears. It was obvious who the drawing was about and the thought made John shake and clench his fists.

John glared at Walker's retreating back. The son of a bitch was lucky he was on his way to the principal's office or John might have decided to kick his ass then and there.

* * *

The device housing the T-888's chip blinked with artificial light, barely visible from the corner of John's eye. His fingers flew over the keyboard and his eyes flickered constantly from the keys to the shining monitor. Lines of coding and indecipherable machine runes blanketed the screen. He still wasn't able to make heads-or-tails of the symbols, but so far, John wasn't worried. The same thing had happened when he hacked into Vick's chip all those months ago.

He was in his element here. Hacking was the one thing he felt so completely comfortable doing. He wasn't like his mother, he didn't draw comfort from the way her gun felt and sounded when she fired it.

In fact it was kind of strange—him drawing comfort from the one thing that would eventually declare war on them all.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked from her position on his bed.

John smiled grimly when he realised he had stopped tying and looked over his shoulder. "Nothing, I was just thinking." Cameron was sitting like she usually sat while not at school: her back straight, knees together. John tried to keep his eyes on her face, sometimes he wished that summer would end quickly, just so that she would stop wearing those little shorts of hers and her tank-top everywhere. It made concentrating difficult.

"Thinking about what?" Cameron's expression didn't change.

John shrugged and turned back to the computer screen. "Nothing, really . . . I was just thinking about maybe painting over the race cars one day. All this graffiti crap at school's gotten me thinking about doing it."

Cameron was silent for a moment. ". . . What colour would you paint it?"

"I don't know," John smiled. "I haven't planned that far ahead yet."

"Blue is soothing. It reminds you of the sky." John turned back around and stared at Cameron in surprise. She wasn't looking at him now, but rather at the ceiling—as though seeing something that wasn't there. "Or maybe green. You always say how you miss the grass and trees."

John nodded slowly and said, "Blue sounds good."

Cameron lowered her head and gazed at him seriously. "We must buy paint."

John snorted and continued typing the final lines of code on his computer. He tapped the enter key with an exaggerated flourish and spun around as lines of code began to stream across the computer screen with renewed vigour.

"Did you look though all of Walker's book?" he tried to keep his tone casual, but he still couldn't prevent the tendrils of anger that rose unbidden. He hadn't seen Axelrod or Walker after they had been sent to the principal's office, though he had overheard a conversation during last period where a girl had said that both Walker and Axelrod had been sent home.

"Yes, I did."

"And what did you think of it?"

"He is a troubled soul."

The corner of John's lip quirked, "I meant, do you think it was Walker this whole time?"

"It's possible, we need to talk to him and this time we can't be interrupted."

John nodded in agreement. "Even if he's suspended, he'll still be at school. They'll still make him see Mr. Harrison and work for the day. If it wasn't him, I still want to know what he says to Mr. Harrison. I want to know what they all say."

"Do you want me to prepare a covert listening device?" Cameron asked.

"Don't get caught with it. If Mom finds out we've used one, she'll kill us." John almost shuddered at the prospect. Sarah didn't like bugs, she found them useful when the need arose, but she couldn't stand them nonetheless. They were still machines. But he supposed getting caught with a bug wasn't as bad as her finding out what he wanted it for. _Though one will basically lead into the other, I guess._ "They're pretty hard to come by illegally. Get it out of the safe tonight, when Mom goes to sleep."

Cameron nodded and suddenly glanced towards John's partially closed door. John spun in his chair in time to see his mother push the door open and step inside.

"Dinner's in ten minutes." Sarah said. If she had heard any of their conversation, she wasn't giving any indication of it. She nodded at the computer. "How's it coming along?"

"Should be done in a few minutes," John shrugged. "But even then, I don't know how much we'll get."

"I know. Visual records—pictures, at the most." Sarah nodded and leaned against the doorframe. "Call me when it's done. Oh, and by the way, have you seen my . . ." Sarah's words faded as Cameron reached into her pocket and pulled out Sarah's cell-phone.

John smirked. It hadn't taken much to fool Mr. Harrison when he called. John didn't know why he had stressed about it. All Cameron had to do was imitate Sarah's voice.

Sarah accepted her cell-phone and looked at John and Cameron with raised eyebrows. "Do I even want to know?"

"It was on the floor." Cameron said blankly.

"So you just decided to take it with you?" Sarah's eyebrows climbed even higher until they seemed to disappear into her fringe. "You know what, forget it. I really don't care." She stared at Cameron a moment longer before turning to John. "Remember, ten minutes."

"I know." John nodded and glanced quickly at the computer screen. Figures and runes still streaked down the screen. "Hey, did Derek go with you to the mall today?"

Sarah froze for an instant, and John thought he saw her face tighten momentarily. "He did, why do you ask?" Her face was calm now, if still a bit stony.

"I was just wondering if the two of you had a fight. I didn't see him this afternoon."

"He doesn't live here, John. He can go where he wants."

_Okay, why does she sound so defensive? _"So you two did fight?"

"No, we didn't." Sarah shook her head and rested her hand on the door. John didn't know if she was going to leave then or stay. He was about to open his mouth to say something in response when his computer beeped softly.

A small pit of something—nerves or anticipation, John wasn't sure—rose in his stomach as he quickly spun in his chair and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. The machine text remained still on the screen, each rune marking a specific area of the chip. It was the T-888's brain.

"Is it done?" Sarah took her hand off the door and stepped closer to him. John was aware of Cameron standing up and leaning over his shoulder to peer at the screen intently.

John tried to ignore Cameron's sudden closeness and sweet smell as he looked up at his mother. "Yeah, it is. I can't get into most of this, not without powering up the chip anymore. Visual memory is out, and I don't know what any of this stuff means." He jabbed his finger at a line of machine runes and glanced at Cameron. "Do you know what it says?"

Cameron shook her head and John felt some of her hair come to rest on his shoulder. "No. I am not programmed to decipher this." She looked at John with those brown orbs, and John noticed for the first time that they didn't shine. "You can't read the electrons moving in your brain. I can't read this writing. I am not programmed to understand machines."

John looked back at the screen and began typing. "Finding a target list shouldn't be too much trouble. The T-888 should have a visual record of its targets stashed away somewhere."

"Not of every target," Cameron added. "It will only have records of a target if it has seen the person, or if Skynet gave it the picture when it was being programmed. The list will be incomplete."

It didn't take long before a line of thumbnails appeared on the screen. John's eyebrows rose in surprise. He had been shooting around in the dark. He knew where visual memories were kept after his experience with Vick, but a target list had been a shot in the dark.

John scrolled through the pictures, frowning at the screen. Six images of three men and two women were placed above what John assumed were their names, written in machine text. John scanned the list, looking at the machine-text names with pictures, and the names without. His heart fell when he realised there were far more names without picture identification, than the names with.

"That's you." Cameron pointed at one of the names without a picture, looking at him expressionlessly.

"I thought you said you couldn't read it?" Sarah said. Her voice sounded flat, but John could hear the ripples of tension and suspicion that flooded through her tone.

"I can't." Cameron looked at Sarah and her hair fell off John's shoulder. "I have the same name in my chip."

Sarah's eyes hardened, but she didn't say anything further, leaving John to turn and look at Cameron.

"Is there anyone else you recognise?" John asked.

Cameron scanned the list for a few seconds before shaking her head. "No, after I was reprogrammed, you scrubbed my memory. I only know names that are still in my database."

"Well that sucks." John said as he increased the size of a picture over one of the names. His eyebrows rose once again as lines of text—in English and machine—moved fluidly across the picture until coming to rest around the border of the picture.

"That's McClane." Sarah said softly. John looked at her in surprise before glancing back at the screen. "He looks older, harder . . . different, but it's him."

John stared into McClane's digital blue eyes for a moment, the knowledge that he was dead finally sinking in. Whatever he had done to warrant his death in the future would never happen now. Skynet had made sure of that.

John drew in a shaky breath and moved onto the next picture. A brown-haired and green eyed woman looked back at him this time. Her pale cheeks were smudged with dirt and blood. In the corner of her picture, a machine barcode sat completely still, contrasting the flowing text still moving around it. Whoever the woman was, she had been captured at some point in the future. John looked at Cameron, but the cyborg only shook her head, and John moved onto the next picture.

This time an African-American man appeared on the screen and Cameron spoke up before the text had even began flowing onto the screen. "That's Major Perry. He's one of your most trusted generals. Derek and Kyle Reese served under him before transferring to operational specialty Tech-Com."

John waited a second, looking at Perry's hard eyes. They had his mother's look like marshmallows, and that was saying something. He sighed slightly and passed over the next few pictures quickly. Each time, he would wait for Cameron to say something, but each time she would shake her head and stare unblinkingly at the picture before it moved along.

When John brought up the last picture, his eyes widened in surprise and he quickly looked at Cameron in astonishment—he even heard Sarah swear an exclamation and step closer to the computer. On the screen, a detailed headshot of Cameron's blank, perfect face stared back at them. Numbers and statistics accompanied the machine writing this time. The figures flowed onto the screen along with a scaled blueprint of Cameron's terminator make and model.

"What the hell . . .?" Was all John could say. _Well this explains why it went after her instead of me._

"What the hell is that?!" Sarah said. Her voice was a lot more vehement than John's. "Why are you there?"

"I don't know." Cameron was staring at the screen intently, her face still a blank, emotionless mask. "I've never seen this before."

"You don't know?" Sarah snorted disbelievingly. "They want you gone, and you don't know why."

"No."

"Is this why I sent you back?" John looked at Cameron and she stared back. He was half-expecting her head to tilt, but to his surprise, it didn't.

"I don't know." Cameron repeated. "But Derek might. He should know the other resistance fighters at least."

"Damn it." Sarah's fist connected with the door with a resounding crash. "I'm gonna give Derek a call." She gave John a pointed look and flipped open her cell-phone. "See if you can make head-or-tails of the rest of that thing." She jabbed her finger at the chip as she strode out of the room.

"Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse." John muttered under his breath.

* * *

The one thing that remained the same after Judgment Day was the sunsets. When the trees burned and buildings collapsed into giant piles of rubble, at the end of the day, the sun still set while all around everything was different. Derek remembered patrolling hotspots—areas where stupid teenagers and sometimes adults would go to the surface and watch the single thread of the previous world. Derek never had the urge to visit one himself, now that he was back here in this time, he would sit and watch them frequently.

The slightly greasy napkin of his hotdog dinner was rolling across the park bench in a gentle breeze. Derek glanced at it and pressed his finger of one of the corners, holding it in place.

The park was emptying as the sky began to darken, the soft blue filling with a heady mix of orange, yellow and reds. He had been sitting for a while; a quick glance at his watch told him that it had been well over an hour.

He leaned forward as the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans began to dig uncomfortably into his flesh. Before it had been a minor annoyance, but now it was just irritating.

Derek stilled and tilted his head minutely to the side as a series of soft footsteps sounded on the grass behind his park bench. He reached back slowly as though directing his hand towards his back pocket. He could feel the smooth handle of his gun when a thickly accented voice sounded.

"Something wrong?"

Derek's lips quirked into a smile and he took his hand away from his gun as he twisted on the bench. His eyes ran up and down the Asian woman's body before finally coming to rest on her face. "Jesse." He said lightly.

"You're early." Jesse walked around from behind the bench and took a seat beside him. She nodded towards the setting sun and flicked her eyes towards him. "I thought you hated sunsets."

"I used to." Derek looked back at the sky. "What've you been doing the past few days?"

"I could ask the same of you."

He could feel Jesse's eyes on his face, and suddenly he could feel his cell-phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID, frowning when Sarah's number appeared on the screen.

"Problem?" Jesse crossed her legs.

Derek shook his head and cut the call off. "No, everything's fine." He smiled and stood up, stretching his arms on the cooling air. "Wanna get out of here?"

* * *

-

* * *

A/N: Okay, I think I mentioned that the graffiti person would be revealed for certain in this chapter, but . . . yeah, it's next time. I got my scenes mixed up. Big thanks to all my reviewers!


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